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 THE 
 
 AUTO-BIOGMPilY OF GOETHE. 
 
 TRUTU AND POETRY: FROiM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 ' THE CONCLUDING BOOKS. 
 
 ALSO 
 
 LETTERS FKOM SWITZERLAND, 
 
 AND 
 
 TEAVELS IN ITALY 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 THE REV. A. J. W. MORRISON, M.A. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY G. BOIIN, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN 
 
 1849.
 
 ^ ■ " a<: 
 
 PRINTED BT HARRISON AND SONS, 
 lONBOW GAZKTIE OFFICE, 3T MAETIN'S IAS£=
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. o c(z03\ntC> 6 
 
 The present forms the second volume of the Standard 
 Library edition of Goethe's Works, and comprises the 
 remaining seven books of his Autobiography, and 
 Letters written during his travels in Switzerland 
 and Italy. 
 
 It is intended that the third volume should con- 
 tain: — 
 Letters WRITTEN dttking a second kesidence in Rome; 
 
 Account of the Campaign in Fkance, and Siege of 
 Mayence, 1792—3; 
 
 Annals, or Leaves from my Journal, 1749 to 1822, 
 
 TOWARDS the COMPLETION OF FORMER CONFESSIONS. 
 
 Biographical Scraps and Sketches. 
 
 The subsequent volumes will include Willielm 
 Meister's Years of Apprenticeship and Years of Travel ; 
 Elective Affinities ; the Sorrows of Werther ; Faust ; 
 and his principal Dramatic, Poetical and Miscellaneous 
 Works. 
 
 H. G; B. 
 
 March 1, 1849.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TKUTH AND POETilY. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Fourteenth Book 1 
 
 Fifteenth Book 32 
 
 Sixteenth Book 62 
 
 Seventeenth Book 79 
 
 Eighteenth Book 134 
 
 Nineteenth Book 130 
 
 Twentieth Book 153 
 
 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 First Part 169 
 
 Second Part 182 
 
 LETTERS FROM ITALY, 
 
 From Carlsbad to the Brenner 237 
 
 From the Brenner to Verona 251 
 
 From Verona to Venice 266 
 
 Venice 289 
 
 From Ferraha to Rome 324 
 
 Rome ; -J^'J 
 
 Naples 404 
 
 Sicily 450
 
 TRUTH AND POETRY; 
 
 FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 FOURTEENTH BOOK. 
 
 With the movement which was spreading among the public, 
 now arose another of greater importance perhaps to the 
 author, as it took place in his immediate circle. 
 
 His early friends who had read, in manuscript, those poet- 
 ical compositions which were now creating so much sensa- 
 tion, and therefore regarded them almost as their own, gloried 
 in a success which they had boldly enough predicted. This 
 number was augmented"^ by new adherents, especially by such 
 as felt conscious of a creative power in themselves, or were 
 desirous of calling one forth and cultivating it. 
 
 Among the former, Lenz was the most active and he deported 
 himself strangely enough. I have already sketched the outward 
 appearance of this remarkable mortal, and have touched afiec- 
 tionately on his talent for humor. 1 will now speak of his 
 ■character, in its results rather than descriptively, because it 
 would be impossible to follow him through the maz)^ course of 
 his life, and to transfer to these pages a full exhibition of his 
 peculiarities. 
 
 Generally known is that self-torture which in the lack of all 
 outward grievances, had now become fashionable, and which 
 distui'bed the very best minds , That which gives but a tran- 
 sient pain to ordinary men who never themselves meditate on 
 tliat which they seek to banish from their minds, was, by the 
 better order, acutely observed, regarded, and recorded in 
 books, letters, and diaries. But now men united the strictest 
 moral requisitions on themselves and others with an excessive 
 negligence in action ; and vague notions arising from this half- 
 self-knowledge misled them into the strangest habits and oiit- 
 , Vol. II. B
 
 2 TKTTTH AXD POETRY; FEOM MY OWN XIFE, 
 
 of-the-Avay practices. But this painful work of self-contempla- 
 tion was justified by the rising empirical pyschology which, 
 while it was not exactly willing to j^ronounce ever}i;hing that 
 prodvices inward disqviiet to be wicked and objectionable, stihL 
 could not give it an unconditional approval, and thus was origi- 
 nated an eternal and inappeasable contest. In carrying On, 
 and sustaining this conflict, Lenz surpassed all the other idlers 
 and dabblers who were occupied in mining into their o^^'n 
 souls, and thus he sufiered from the universal tendency of the 
 times, which was said to have been let loose by Werther; but 
 a personal peculiarity distinguished him from all the rest. 
 While they were undeniably fi-ank and honest creatures, he had 
 a decided inclination to intrigue, and, indeed, to intrigue for its 
 own sake, without ha-ving in view any special object, any rea- 
 sonable, attainable, personal object. On the contrary, it was 
 always his custom to propose to himself something whimsical , 
 which served, for that very reason, to keep him constantly occu- 
 pied. In this way all his Hfe long his imagination made him 
 play a false part; his love, as well as his hate, was imaginary; 
 he dealt with his thoughts and feelings in a wilftd manner, so 
 as always to have something to do. He endeavom-ed to give 
 reality to his sympathies and antipathies by the most perverse 
 means, and always himself destroyed his OAvn work. Thus he 
 never benefited any one whom he loA'ed, and never injm-ed 
 any one whom he hated. In general he seemed to sin only to 
 punish himself, and to intrigue for no purpose but to graft a 
 new fable upon an old one. 
 
 His talent, in which tenden^ess, facility', and subtlety 
 rivalled each other, proceeded fi-om a real depth, fi-om an inex- 
 haustible creative power, but was thoroughly morbid -s^-ith all 
 its beauty. Such qualities are precisely the most difficult to 
 judge. It is impossible to overlook great features in his 
 works — a lovely tenderness steals along thro^igh pieces of 
 caricature so odd and so silly that they can hardly be par- 
 doned, even in a humor so thorough and unassuming, and 
 such a genuine comic talent. His days were made up of mere 
 nothings, to which his nimble fancy could ever give a meaning, 
 and he was the better able to squander hours away, since, with 
 a happy memory, the time which he did employ in reading, 
 was always fi-uit'ful, and enriched his original mode of thought 
 with vai-ious materials.
 
 LENZ. «> 
 
 He had been sent to Strasbm-g %vith some Livonian gentle- 
 men, and a more imfortuuate choice of a Mentor could not 
 have been made. The elder baron went back for a time 
 to his native coimtry, and left behind him a lady to whom 
 he was tenderly attached. In order to keep at a distance the 
 second brother, who was pajdng com-t to the same lady, as 
 ■well as other lovers, and to preserve the precious heart for his 
 absent friend, Lenz determined either to feign that he had 
 fallen in love with the beauty, or if you please, actually to do so. 
 He carried through this plan with the most obstinate adhe- 
 rence to the ideal he had fonned of her, without being aware 
 that he, as well as the others, only served her for jest and pas- 
 time. So much the better for him! For him, too, it was 
 nothing but a game which could only be kept up by her meeting 
 him in the same spirit, now attracting him, now repelling him, 
 now encom'aging him, and now sHghting him. We may be 
 siu'e that if he had become aware of the way the affair some- 
 times went on, he woidd, with great delight, have congratulated 
 himself on the discoveiy- 
 
 As for the rest he, like his pupils, lived mostly with officers 
 of the garrison, and thus the strange notions he afterwards 
 brought out in his comedy Die Soldaten (The Soldiers) probably 
 originated. At any rate, this early acquaintance Avith miHtary 
 men had on him the peculiar effect, that he forthwith fancied 
 himself a great judge of militarj^ matters. And yet from time to 
 time he really studied the subject in detail with such effect, 
 that some years afterward he prepared a long memorial to the 
 French Minister of War, from which he promised himself the 
 best results. The faults of the department were tolerably 
 well pointed out, but on the other hand, the remedies were 
 ridiculous and impracticable. However, he cherished a con- 
 viction that he should by this means gain great influence at 
 court, and was anything but grateful to those of his friends 
 who, partly by reasoning, and partly by active opposition, 
 compelled him to suppress, and afterwards to burn, this fan- 
 tastic work, after it had been fiiir-copied, put under cover with 
 a letter, and formally addi-essed. 
 
 First of all by word of mouth, and afterwards by letter, ne 
 had confided to me all the mazes of his toi-tuous movements 
 with regard to the lady above mentioned. The poetry which 
 he could inftise into the commonest incidents often astonished 
 
 B 2
 
 4 TKTTXH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 inc, SO that I urged him to employ liis talents iu turning the 
 essence of this long-winded adventure to account, and to make 
 a little romance out of it. But that was not in his line ; he 
 coidd only succeed when he poured himself out for ever upon 
 details, and span an endless thread without any purpose. 
 Perhaps it will be possible at a future time, to deduce from 
 these premises some account of his life up to the time that 
 he became a lunatic. At present I confine myself to what is 
 immediately connected with the siibject in hand. 
 
 Hardly had Gotz von Berlichingen appeared when Lenz 
 sent me a proli.K essay written on small draught paper, such 
 as he commonly used, without leaving the least margin, either 
 at the top, the bottom, or the sides. It was entitled, Ueber 
 xinsere Ehe, (On our Marriage.) and were it still in exist- 
 ence, might enlighten us much more now than it then did me, 
 when I was as yet in the dai-k as to him aud his character. The 
 leading pm*pose of this long manuscript was to compare my 
 talent with his own : now he seemed to make himself inferior 
 to me, now to represent himself as my equal; but it was all 
 done with such humorous and neat turns of expression that I 
 gladly received the view he intended to convey, and all the more 
 so as I did, in fact, rate very high the gifts nc possessed, and 
 was always urging him to concentrate himself out of his aimless 
 rambling, and to use his natural capacities with some artistical 
 control. I replied in the most friendly way to this confiden- 
 tial communication, and as he had encouraged the greatest 
 intimacy between us, (as the whimsical title indicates,) from 
 that time forward I made known to him everything I had 
 either finished or designed. In return he successively sent me 
 his manuscripts: Der Hofmeistcr, (Private Tutor.) Der neue 
 Menoza, (The New Menoza,) Die Soldaten, (The Soldiers,) the 
 invitations of Plautiis, and the translation fi-om the English 
 which I have before sj^oken of as forming the supplement to 
 his remarks on the theatre. 
 
 While reading the latter, I was somcAvhat struck to find him 
 in a laconic preface speaking in such a way as to convey the 
 idea that this essay, which contained a vehement attack upon 
 the regrdar theatre, had, many j'ears before, been read to a 
 society of the friends of literature at a time, in short, when 
 Gotz was not yet written. That there should have been among 
 Lenz's acquaintances at Strasburg a litcraiy cii'cle of which I
 
 XLINGEB. 5 
 
 was ignorant seemed somewhat problematical; however I let 
 it pass, and soon procured publishers for this and his other 
 writings, Avithout having the least suspicion that he had se- 
 lected me as the chief object of his fanciful hatred, and as the 
 mark of an odd and whimsical persecution. 
 
 In passing, I will, for the sake of the sequel, just mention 
 a good fellow, M-ho, though of no extraordinary gifts, was 
 yet one of our number. He was called Wagner, and was 
 first a member of our Strasburg society and then of that at 
 Frankfort — a man not without spirit, talent, and education. 
 He appeared to be a striving sort of person, and was therefore 
 welcome. He, too, attached liimself to me, and as I made no 
 secret of my plans, I shewed to him as well as others my 
 sketch of the Faust, especially the catastrophe of Gretchen, 
 He caught up the idea and used it for a tragedy. Die Kindes- 
 mbrderin, (The Infanticide.) It Avas the first time that any 
 one had stolen from me any of my plans. It A-exed me, 
 though I bore him no ill Avill on that account. Since then 
 I have often enough suffered such robberies and anticipations 
 of my thoughts, and Avith my dilatoriness and habit of gos- 
 sipjjing about the many things that I Avas ever planning and 
 imagining, I had no right to complain. 
 
 If on accoimt of the great effect which contrasts produce, 
 orators and poets gladly make use of them even at the 
 expense of seeking them out and bringing them from a distance, 
 it must be the more agreeable to the present Avriter tliat such 
 a decided contrast presents itself, in his speaking of Klinger 
 after Lenz. They Avere cotemporarics, and in youth labored 
 together. But Lenz, as a transient meteor, passed but for a 
 moment over the horizon of German literature, and suddenly 
 vanished Avithout leaving any trace behind. Klinger, on the 
 other hand, has maintained his position up to the present 
 time as an author of influence, and an active man of business. 
 Of him I Avill noAv speak, as far as it is necessary, without 
 following any farther a comparison, Avhich suggests itself; for 
 it has not been in secret that he has accomplished so much 
 and exercised so great an influence, but both his Avqiks and 
 his influence arc still remembered, far and near, and are 
 highly esteemed and appreciated. 
 
 Klinger s exterior, for I always like best to begin Avith 
 this, Avas very prepossessing. Nature had giAxn him a tall.
 
 6 TRUTH AND POETEY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 slencier, well-built form, and regular features. He was carefiil 
 of his appearance, alwaj-s dressed neatly, and might justly 
 have passed for the smartest member of our little society. 
 His manners were neither forward nor repulsive, and when 
 not agitated by an inward storm, mild and gentle. 
 
 In girls, we love what they are, but in young men what 
 they promise to be, and thus I was Klinger's friend as soon as I 
 made his acquaintance. He recommended himself by a pm*e 
 good nature, and an vmmistakeable decision of character won 
 him confidence. From youth upward, everything had tended 
 to incline him. to seriousness. Together with a beautiful and 
 excellent sister, he had to provide for a mother; who in her 
 widowhood had need of such cliildren for her support. He 
 had made himself everything that he was, so that no one 
 could find fault with a trait of proud independence which 
 was apparent in his bearing. Strong natural talents, such as 
 are common to all well-endowed men, a facile power of appre- 
 hension, an excellent memory, and gi-eat fluency of speech, 
 he possessed in a high degiee ; but he appeared to regard all 
 these as of less value than the firmness and perseverance 
 which were likewise innate with him, and wliich circumstances 
 had abundantly strengthened. 
 
 To a young man of such a character, the works of Rousseau 
 *vere especially attractive. Emile was his chief text-book, and 
 its sentiments, as they had an vmiversal influence over the cul- 
 tivated world, were peculiarly fruitful with him, and influenced 
 him more than others. For he too was a child of nature, — 
 he too had worked his way upwards. "WTiat others had been 
 compelled to cast away, he had never possessed; relations 
 of society from which they would have to emancipate them- 
 selves, had never fettered him. Thus might he be regarded as 
 one of the purest disciples of that gospel of natm-e, and in view 
 of his own persevering efibrts and his conduct as a man and 
 son, he might well exclaim, "All is good as it comes from the 
 hands of nature!" But the conclusion, "All is corrupted in 
 the hands of man!" was also forced upon him by adverse 
 experience. It was not with himself that he had to struggle, 
 but beyond and out of himself mth the conventional world, 
 from whose fetters the Citizen of Geneva designed to set us 
 free. And as'jfrom the circumstances of his youth the struggle 
 he had to vmdergo had often been difficidt and painful, he had
 
 KLINGEK. 7 
 
 Tjeeii driven back upon himself too ^'iolently to attain a 
 thoroughly serene and joyous development. On the contrary, 
 as he had had to force his way against an opposing world, a 
 trait of bitterness had crept into his character, which he after- 
 wards in some degree fed and cherished, but for the most part 
 strove against and conquered. 
 
 His works, as fai- as I am able to recall them, bespeak a 
 strong understanding, an upright mind, an active imagination, 
 a ready perception of the vai'ieties of hiunan nature, and a 
 characteristic imitation of generic differences. His girls and 
 boys are open and amiable, his youths ardent, his men plain 
 and intelligent, the personages whom he paints in an un- 
 favorable light are not overcbawTi ; he is not wanting in cheer- 
 fulness and good humour, in wit and happy notions ; allegories 
 and symbols are at his command ; he can entertain and please 
 us, and the enjoyment would be still purer if he did not here 
 and there mar both for himself and us, his gay, pointed jesting 
 by a touch of bitterness. Yet this it is which makes him 
 what he is. The modes of li\'ing and of Avi'iting become as 
 varied as they are, from the fact that every one wavers theoreti- 
 cally between knowledge and error, and practically between 
 creation and destruction. 
 
 Klinger should be classed with those who have formed them- 
 selves for the world, out of themselves, out of their own souls 
 and vmder standings. Because this takes place in and among a 
 greater mass, and becaixse among themselves they itse with 
 power and effect, an intelligible language floAving out of uni- 
 versal nature and popular peculiarities, such men always cherish 
 a warm hostility to aU forms of the schools, especially if these 
 forms, separated from their living origin, have degenerated 
 into phi-ases, and have thus lost altogether their first, fresh 
 significance. Such men almost invariably declare war against 
 new opinions, views, and systems, as weU as against new events 
 aiid rising men of importance who announce or produce great 
 ehanges. They arc however not so much to blame on this 
 account; their opposition is not uimatural when they see all 
 that which they are indebted to for their own existence and 
 cultiu'e menaced with ruin and in great danger. 
 
 In an energetic character this adherence to its own views 
 becomes the more worthy of respect when it has been main- 
 tained throughout a life in the world and in affliirs, and when
 
 8 TRUTH AKD rOEIEY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 a mode of dealing A\atli cuiTcnt events. Avhich to many might* 
 seem rough and arbitrary, being employed at the right time, 
 has led suiely to the desiied end. This was the case A^nth 
 Klinger; without pliability (which was never the viituo of the 
 born citizen of the empu-e,*) he had nevertheless risen, steadily, 
 and honorably, to posts of great importance, had managed to 
 maintain his position, and as he advanced in the approbation 
 and favor of his highest patrons, never forgot his old friends, or 
 the path he had left behind. Indeed, thi-ough all degrees of ab- 
 sence and separation, he laboiu-ed pertinaciously to preserve the 
 most complete constancy of remembrance, and it certainly de- 
 serves to be remarked that in his coat of ai-ms though adorned 
 by the badges of several orders, he, like another Willigis, did 
 not disdain to perpetuate the tokens of his early life. 
 
 It was not long before I formed a connection with Lava- 
 TEK. Passages of my ''Letter of a Pastor to his Colleagues" 
 had greatly struck him, for much of it agreed perfectly with 
 his own views. With his never-tiring acti\-ity our corres- 
 pondence soon became lively. At the time it commenced he 
 was making preparations for his larger Avork on Physiognomy, 
 ^the introduction to which had already been laid before the 
 public. He called on all the world to send him ch-awiugs 
 and outlines, and especially representations of Christ; and, 
 although I could do as good as nothing in this way, he 
 nevertheless insisted on my sending him a sketch of the 
 Saviour such as I imagined him to look. Such demands for 
 the impossllile gave occasion for jests of many kinds, for I 
 had no other ■s\ay of defending myself against his pecuKaritics 
 but by bringing forward my OAvn. 
 
 The number of those who had uo foitli in Physiognomy, or, 
 at least, regarded it as uncertain and deceitfid, was very great ; 
 and several who had a liking for Lavater felt a desire to try 
 him, and, if possible, to play him a trick. He had ordered of 
 a painter in Frankfort, ^ho was not without talent, the profiles 
 of several well knoAvn persons. Lavater" s agent venturctl upon 
 the jest of sending liahrdt's portrait as mine, which soon 
 brought bade a merry but thmidering epistle, fuU of all kinds 
 of cxpleti-ies and asseverations that this was not my pictm-e, — 
 together with everything that on such an occasion Lavater 
 would natur;illy have to say in confirmation of the doctrine of 
 That is to say, a native of oue of the Imperial cities. 
 
 *
 
 LAVATEB. J 
 
 Physiognomy. My true likeness, Avhich was sent afterwards, 
 he allowed to pass more readily, but even here the opposition 
 into which he fell both with "^paintcrs and with individuals 
 showed itself at once. The former could never work for him 
 ftiithfully and sufficiently ; the latter, whatever excellences they 
 might have, came always too far short of the idea which he 
 entertained of humanity and of men to prevent his being some- 
 what repelled by the special characteristics which constitute 
 the personality of the individual. 
 
 The conception of Humanity which had been formed in 
 
 himself and in his own humanity, was so completely akin to 
 
 the living image of Christ which he cherished within him, 
 
 that it was impossible for him to iinderstand how a man could 
 
 live and breathe Mithout at the same time being a Christian. 
 
 My own relation to the Christian religion lay merely in my 
 
 sense and feeling, and I had not the slightest notion of that 
 
 physical affinity to which Lavater inclined. I was, therefore, 
 
 vexed by the importunity, with which a man so full of mind 
 
 and heart, attacked me, as well as ^Mendelssohn and others, 
 
 maintaining that every one must either become a Christian 
 
 with him, a C!hristiau of his sort, or else that one must bring 
 
 him over to one's own way of thinking, and convince him of 
 
 precisely that in which one had found peace. This demand, 
 
 so directly opposed to that liberal spirit of the world, to which 
 
 I was more and more tending, did not have the best effect upon 
 
 me. All imsuccessfid attempts at conversion leave him Avho has 
 
 been selected for a proselyte stubborn and obdurate, and this 
 
 was especially the case with me when Lavater at last came 
 
 out with the hard dilemma — " Either Christian or Atheist !" 
 
 Upon this I declared that if he would not leave me my own 
 
 Christianity as 1 had hitherto cherished it, I coidd readily 
 
 decide for Atheism, particularly as I saw that nobody knew 
 
 precisely what either meant. 
 
 This correspondence, vehement as it was, did not distm-b 
 the good terms we were on. Lavater had an incredible 
 patience, pertinacity, and endurance ; he was confident in his 
 theory, and, with his determined plan to propagate his con- 
 \-ictions in the world, he was willing by waiting and mild- 
 ness to effect what he could not accomplish by force. In 
 short, he belonged to the few fortunate men whose outward 
 vocation perfectly harmonizes with the inner one, and whose
 
 10 TRUTH AXD POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 earliest culture coinciding in all points with their subsequent 
 pm-suits, gives a natural development to their faculties. 
 Born with the most delicate moral susceptibilities, he had 
 chosen for himself the clerical profession. He received the 
 necessary instruction, and displayed various talents, but with- 
 out inclining to that degree of cultm-e which is called leai^ned. 
 He also, though born so long before, had, like ourselves, been 
 caught by the spirit of Freedom and Nature which belonged to 
 the time, and which whispered flatteringly in every ear, " You 
 have materials and soHd poAvcr enough within yom'self, without 
 much outward aid; all depends upon your developing them 
 properly." The obligation of a clergyman to work upon men 
 morally, in the ordinaiy sense, and religiously in the higher 
 sense, fully coincided with his mental tendencies. His marked 
 impulse, even as a youth, was to impart to others, and to excite 
 in them, his own just and pious sentiments, and his favorite oc- 
 cupation was the observation of himself and of his feUow-men. 
 The former was facilitated, if not forced upon him, by an in- 
 ternal sensitiveness ; the latter by a keen glance, which could 
 quickly read the outward expression. StiU, he was not bom 
 for contemplation ; properly speaking, the gift of conveying his 
 ideas to others was not his. He felt himself rather, with all 
 his powers, impelled to activity, to action; and I have never 
 knoM-n any one who was more imceasingly active than Lavater. 
 But because our inward moral nature is incorporated in out- 
 ward conditions, whether we belong to a family, a class, a guild, 
 a city, or a state, he was obliged, in his desire to influence 
 others, to come into contact with all these external things, and 
 to set them in motion. Hence arose many a collision, many 
 an entanglement, especially as the commonwealth of which he 
 was by birth a member enjoyed, under the most precise and 
 accurately- defined limits, an admirable hereditarj- freedom. 
 The republican from his boyhood is accustomed himself to think 
 and to converse on public affairs. In the first bloom of his life 
 the youth sees the period approaching when, as a member of a 
 free corporation, he will have a vote to give or to withhold. If 
 he wishes to form a just and independent judgment, h'j miist, 
 before all things, convince himself of the worth of his fellow 
 citizens ; he must learn to know them ; he must inquire into 
 their sentiments and their capacities ; and thus, in aiming to 
 read others, he becomes intimate with his ovra bosom.
 
 LAVATEE. 11 
 
 Under such circumstances Lavater was early trained, and 
 this business of life seems to hare occupied him more than the 
 study of languages and the anal\i:ic criticism, which is not only 
 allied to that study, but is its foundation as well as its aim. In 
 later years, when his attainments and his views had reached a 
 boimdless comprehensiveness, he fi-equently said, both in jest 
 and in seriousuf^^c, that he was not a learned man. It is pre- 
 cisely to this want of deep and solid learning, that we must 
 ascribe the fact that he adhered to the letter of the Bible, and 
 even to the translation, and found in it nomishment, and 
 assistance enough for all that he sought and designed. 
 
 Very soon, however, this circle of action in a corporation 
 or guild, with its slow movement, became too narrow for the 
 quick nature of its occupant. For a youth to be upright is 
 not difficult, and a pm-e conscience revolts at the -wrong of 
 which it is still innocent. The oppressions of a bailiff [Land- 
 vogt) lay plain before the eyes of the citizens, but it was by 
 no means easy to bring them to jvistice. Lavater ha^'ing as- 
 sociated a friend with himself, anonymously threatened the 
 guilty bailiff. The matter became notorious, and an investiga- 
 tion was rendered necessarj'. The criminal was pimished, but 
 the prompters of this act of justice were blamed if not Abused. 
 In a well ordered state even the right must not be brought 
 about in a wrong way. 
 
 On a tour which Lavater now made tlii'ough GeiTQany, he 
 came into contact with educated and right-thinking men ; but 
 that served only to confii-m his pre^-ious thoughts and convic- 
 tions, and on his return home he worked from his own re- 
 sources with greater freedom than ever. A noble and good 
 m.an, he was conscious ■\vithin himself of a lofty conception of 
 humanity, and whatever in experience contradicts such a con- 
 ception, — all the imdeniable defects which remove eveiy one 
 from perfection, he reconciled by his idea of the Divinity which 
 in the midst of ages came down into human natiu'e in order 
 completely to restore its earher image. 
 
 So much by way of preface on the tendencies of this emi- 
 nent man ; and now before all things, for a bright pictm-e of 
 our meeting and personal intercourse. Our correspondence 
 had not long been carried on, when he announced to me and 
 to others, that in a voyage up the Rhine which he was about 
 to imdertake, he would soon visit Frankfort. Immediately
 
 12 TRUTH A>rD poetry; from my own life. 
 
 there arose a great excitement in our world ; all were curious 
 to see so remarkable a person; many hoped to profit by 
 him in the Avay of moral and religious culture; the sceptics' 
 prepared to distinguish themselves by gi-ave objections ; tlu- 
 conceited felt sm'e of entangling and confounding him by 
 arguments in which they had strengthened themselves, — in 
 short, there was everything, there was all the favor and dis- 
 favor, which awaits a distinguished man who intends to meddle 
 with this motley world. 
 
 Our first meeting was hearty; we embraced each other 
 in the most friendly -way, and I found him just like what I 
 had seen in many portraits of him. I saw living and active 
 before me, an individual quite unique, and distinguished in a 
 Avay that no one had seen before or will see again. Lavater, 
 on the contrary, at the first moment, betrayed by some pecu- 
 liar exclamations, that I was not what he had expected. 
 Hereupon, I assured him, Avith the realism which had been 
 born in me, and which I had cultivated, that as it had pleased 
 God and nature to make me in that fashion we must rest 
 content with it. The most important of the points on Avhich 
 in our letters we had been for from agreeing, became at 
 once sifbjects of conversation, but we had not time to discuss 
 them thoroughly, and something occuri-ed to me that I had 
 never before experienced. 
 
 The rest of us whenever we wish to speak of affliirs of the 
 soul and of the heart, were wont to withdraw from the crowd, 
 and even from all society, because in the many modes of 
 thinking, and the different degrees of culture among men, it 
 is difficult to be on an understanding even with a few. But 
 Lavater Avas of a wholly different turn ; he liked to extend his 
 influence as far as possible, and was not at ease except in a 
 crowd, for the instruction and entertainment of which he pos- 
 sessed an especial talent, based on his great skill in physiog- 
 nomy. He had a wonderful facility of discriminating persons 
 and minds, by which he quickly understood the mental state 
 of all around him. Whenever therefore this judgment of men 
 was met by a sincere confession, a true-hearted inquiry, he was 
 able, from the abundance of his internal and external experi- 
 ence, to satisfy every one with an appropriate answer. The 
 deep tenderness of his look, the marked sweetness of his lips, 
 and even the honest Swiss dialect wliich was heard throush his
 
 XAVATEE. 13 
 
 High. Geniian, with many other things that distinguished him, 
 ■immediately placed all whom he addi-essed quite at their ease. 
 Even the slight stoop in his carriage, together with his rather 
 hollow chest, contributed not a little to balance in the eyes of 
 the remainder of the company the weight of his commanding 
 presence. Towards presumption and arrogance he knew how 
 to demean himself with calnmess and address, for while seem- 
 ing to yield he would suddenly bring forward, like a diamond- 
 shield, some grand view, ofwhich his narrow-minded opponent 
 would never have thought, and at the same time he would so 
 agreeably moderate the light which flowed from it, that such 
 men felt themselves instructed and con\-iuced, — so long at least 
 as they were in his presence. Perhaps M'ith many the impres- 
 sion continued to operate long afterwards, for even conceited 
 men are also kindly ; it is only necessary by gentle influences 
 to soften the hard shell which encloses the fruitful kernel. 
 
 What caused him the greatest pain was the presence of 
 persons whose outward ugliness must irrevocably stamp them 
 decided enemies of his theory as to the significance of forms. 
 They commonly employed a considerable amomit of connnon 
 sense and other gifts and talents, in vehement hostility and 
 paltry doubts, to weakeu a doctrine which appeared oficnsive 
 to tlieir self-love; for it was not easy to find any one so mag- 
 nanimous as Socrates, who interpreted his faim-Uke exterior in 
 favour of an acquired morality. To Lavater the hardness, the 
 obdm-acy of such antagonists was horrible, and his oj^position 
 was not free from passion ; just as the smelting fire must attack 
 the resisting ore as something troublesome and hostile. 
 
 In such a case a confidential conversation, such as miaht 
 appeal to om- own cases and experience, was not to be thought 
 of; however I was much instructed by observing the manner 
 in which he treated men, — instructed, I say, not improved by 
 it, for my position was wholly dific'reut i'rom his. He that 
 works morally loses none of his efforts, for there comes from 
 them much more fruit than the parable of the Sower too 
 modestly represents. But he Avhose labours are artistic, fails 
 utterly in every work that is not recognised as a work of art. 
 From this it may be judged how impatient my dear sympa- 
 thizing readers were accustomed to make me, and for what 
 reasons I had such a gi-eat dislike to come to an understanding 
 with them. I now felt but too vividly the diffl'rence betAveen
 
 14 TRUTH AND POETKT ; FEOJI JIT OWN LIFE. 
 
 the effectiveness of my labors and those of Lavater. His pre- 
 vailed, while he was present, mine, when I was absent. Every 
 one who at a distance was dissatisfied with him became his 
 friend when they met, and every one who, judging by my work, 
 considered me amiable, found himself greatly deceived when 
 he came in contract with a man of coldness and reserve. 
 
 Merk, who had just come over from Dannstadt, played the 
 part of Mcphistopheles, especially ridiculing the importuni- 
 ties of the women. As some of these were closely examining 
 the apartments Avhich had been set apart for the prophet, 
 and, above all, his bed-chamber, the wag said that "the 
 pious souls wished to see where they had laid the Lord." 
 Nevertheless he, as well as the others, was forced to let 
 himself be exorcised. Lips, who accompanied Lavater, di-ew 
 his profile as completely and successfully as he did those of 
 other men, both important and unimportant, who were to be 
 heaped together in the great work on Physiognomy. 
 
 For myself, Lavater's society was highly influential and in- 
 structive, for his pressing incitements to action set my calm, 
 artistic, contemplative natui-e into motion, not indeed to any 
 advantage at the moment, because the cii'cimistances did but in- 
 crease the distraction which had already laid hold of me. Still, 
 so many things were talked about between us, as to give rise to 
 the most earnest desire on my part to prolong the discussion. 
 Accordingly I detennined to accompany him if he went to Ems, 
 so that, shut up in the can-iage and separated fr-om the world, 
 we might fi-eely go over those subjects which lay nearest to 
 both our hearts. 
 
 ■Meanwhile the conversations between Lavater and Fr'aulein 
 Von Klettenberg were to me exceedingly interesting and 
 profitable. Here two decided Chiistians stood in contrast to 
 each other, and it was quite plain hoAv the same behef may take 
 a different shape according to the sentiments of different per- 
 son^. In those tolerant times it was often enough repeated that 
 eveiy man had his own religion and his own mode of worship. 
 Although I did not maintam this exactly, I could, in the pre- 
 sent case, perceive that men and women need a different 
 Saviom-. Fr'aulein Von Klettenberg looked towards hers as 
 to a loA-er to whom one yields oneself without reserve, con- 
 centrating all joy and hojic on him alone, and M'ithout doubt 
 or hesitation confiding to him the destiny of life. Lavater,
 
 PAITH AXD KXOWXEDGE. 15 
 
 on tlie other hand, treated his as a friend, to be imitated 
 lo'NTiigly and •without en-vy, whose merits he recognised and 
 valued highly, and whom, for that very reason, he strove to 
 copy and even to equal. "NMiat a difference between these 
 two tendencies, wliich in general exhibit the spirtual ne- 
 cessities of the two sexes ! Hence we may perhaps explain 
 the fact that men of more deHcate feeKng have so often turned 
 to the Mother of God as a paragon of female beauty and viitue, 
 and like Sannazaro, have dedicated to her their lives and talents, 
 occasionally condescending to play with the Divine Infant. 
 
 How my two friends stood to each other, and how they felt 
 towards each other, I gathered not only fr'om conversations at 
 which I was present, but also fi-om revelations which both 
 made to me in private. I could not agree entirely with either ; 
 for my Christ had also taken a form of his own, in accordance 
 •with my views. Because they would not allow mine to pass at 
 all, I teased them with all sorts of paradoxes and exaggera- 
 tions, and, when they got impatient, left them with a jest. 
 
 The contest between knowledge and faith was not yet the 
 order of the day, but the two words and the ideas connected 
 with them occasionally came forward, and the true haters of the 
 world maintained that one was as little to be relied on as the 
 other. Accordingly I took pleasure in declaring in favour of 
 both, though without being able to gain the assent of my friends. 
 In Faith, I said, eveiything depends on the fact of believing ; 
 what is believed is perfectly indifferent. Faith is a profound 
 sense of security for the present and future, and tliis assui-ance 
 springs from confidence in an immense, all-powerfril, and in- 
 scrutable Being. The firmness of this confidence is the one 
 grand point; but what we think of this Being depends on our 
 other faculties, or even on circumstances, and is wholly 
 indifferent. Faith is a holy vessel into which every one 
 stands i-eady to pour his feelings, his imderstauding, his 
 imagination as perfectly as he can. With Knowledge it is 
 directly the opposite. There the point is not whether we 
 know, but what we know, how much we know, and how well 
 we know it. Hence it comes that men may dispute about 
 knowledge because it can be con-ected, widened, and con- 
 tracted. Knowledge begins \Wth the particidar, is endless 
 and formless, can never be all compi-ehended, or at least but 
 di-eamily, and thus remains exactly the opposite of Faith.
 
 16 TKUTH AND POETKY : FROM MY OWX LirE. 
 
 Half truths of tliis kind, and the errors which arise from 
 them may, Avhen poetically exhibited, be exciting and enter- 
 taining, but in life they disturb and confuse conversation. 
 For that reason I was glad to leave Lavater alone with all 
 those who wished to be edified by him and through him, a 
 deprivation for which I found myself fully compensated by 
 the journey we made together to Ems. Beautiful summer 
 weather attended us, and Lavater was gay and most amiable. 
 For though of a religious and moral turn, he Avas by no means 
 narrow-minded, and was not unmoved Avhen by the events of life 
 those around him were excited to cheerfuhiess and gaiety. He 
 was sjonpathizing, spirited, Avitty, and liked the same qualities 
 in others, provided that they were kept Avithin the bounds Avhich 
 his delicate sense of propriety prescribed. If any one A-cntured 
 further he used to clap him on the shoulder, and by a hearty 
 '■'•Bisch guetr AA'ould call the rash man back to good manners. 
 This journey afibrded me instruction and inspiration of many 
 kinds, Avhich, howcA-er, contributed to a knoAvledge of his cha- 
 racter rather than to the government and culture of my oavii. At 
 Ems I saAv him once again, surrounded by society of every sort, 
 and I Avent back to Frankfort, because my little affairs Avere in 
 such a state that I could scarcely absent myself from them at all. 
 
 But I Avas not destined to be restored so speedily to repose. 
 Basedoav now came in to attract me, and touch me on 
 another side. A more decided contrast could not be foimd 
 than that betAveen these tAvo men. A single glance at 
 BasedoAv shoAvcd the difference. Lavatcr's features displayed 
 themselves Avith openness to the observer, but those of 
 BasedoAV Avere croAvded together and as it were draAvn 
 iuAvard. Lavater's eye, beneath a A'eiy Avide eyelid, Avas clear 
 and expressive of piety; Basedow's Avas deep in his head, 
 small, black, sharp, gleaming from mider bristly broAvs, AA'hile 
 on the contrary, Lavater's frontal bone Avas edged AAuth 
 two arches of the softest broAvn hair. BasedoAv's strong, 
 rough voice, quick, sharp expressions, a kind of sarcastic 
 laugh, a rapid change of subjects in conA'ersation, with 
 other peculiarities, were all the opposite of the qualities and 
 manners by Avhich Lavater had spoiled us. Basedow was 
 also much sought after in Frankfort, and his gi-eat talents Avere 
 admired, but he Avas not the man either to edify souls or to 
 lead them. His sole office Avas to give a better cidtivation to
 
 BASEDOW. 17 
 
 the wide field he had marked out for himself, so that 
 Humanity might afterwards take up its dwelling in it with 
 srreater ease and accordance with nature : but to this end he 
 hastened even too directly. 
 
 I could not altogether acquiesce in his plans, or even get a 
 clear imderstanding of his views. I was of coiu'se pleased 
 with his desire of making all instruction living and natural ; 
 his wish, too, that the ancient languages should be practised 
 on present objects, appeared to me laudable, and I gladly 
 acknowledged all that in his project, tended to the promotion 
 of activity and a fresher view of the world. But I was dis- 
 pleased that the illustrations of his elementary work, were 
 even more distracting than its subjects, whereas in the 
 actual world, possible things alone stand together, and for 
 tiiat reason, in spite of all variety and apparent confusion, the 
 world has still a regularity in all its parts. Basedow's elemen- 
 tary work, on the contrary, sunders it completely, inasmuch 
 as things which in the world never are combined, are here 
 put together on account of the association of idea's: and 
 consequently, the book is without even those palpable metho- 
 dical advantages which we must acknowledge in the similar 
 work of Amos Comenius. 
 
 But the conduct of Basedow was nuich more strange and 
 difficult to comprehend than his doctrine. The pm-pose of 
 his journey was, by personal influence, to interest the public 
 in his philanthropic enterprise, and, indeed, to open not only 
 hearts but pm-ses. He had the power of speaking grandly 
 and comincingly of his scheme, and every one M-illingly 
 conceded Avhat he asserted. But in a most inexplicable way 
 he pained the feelings of the very men whose assistance 
 he wished to gain; nay, he outraged them unnecessarily, 
 thi'ough his inability to keep back his opinions and fancies 
 on religious subjects. In this respect, too, Basedow appeared 
 the very opposite of Lavater. AVhile the latter received 
 the Bible literally, and with its whole contents, as being 
 word for word in force, and applicable even at the present 
 day, the former had the most unquiet itching to renovate 
 everjlhing, and to remodel both the doctrines and the cere- 
 monies of the church in conformity with some odd notions 
 of his own. Most imprudently he showed no mercy to those 
 conceptions which come not immediatelv from the Bible, but 
 Vol. II. c
 
 18 TKUTH AND rOETEY: FEOM MY OAVN LIFE. 
 
 from Its interpretation ; — all tliose expressions, technical 
 pb-ilosopliical terms, or sensible figures, with which Councils 
 and Fathers of the church had sought to explain the inex- 
 pressible, or to confute heretics. In a harsh and unwar- 
 rantable Avay, and before all alike, he declared himself the sworn 
 enemy of the Trinity, and would never desist from arguing 
 against this tmiversally admitted mystery. I, too, had to 
 suffer a good deal from this kind of entertainment in private 
 conversation, and was compelled again and again to listen to 
 his tirades about the Hijposfasis and Ousia, as well as the 
 Prosopon. To meet them all I had recourse to the weapons 
 of paradox, and soaring even above the flight of his opinions, 
 ventm-ed to oppose his rash assertions with something rasher 
 of my own. This gave a new excitement to my mind, and 
 as Basedow was much more extensively read, and had more 
 skill in the fencing tricks of disputation than a follower of 
 nature like myself, I had always to exert myself the more, 
 the more important were the points which were discussed 
 between us. 
 
 Such a splendid opportunity to exercise, if not to enlighten 
 my mind, I could not allow to pass away in a hm-ry. 1 pre- 
 vailed on my father and friends to manage my most pressing 
 affairs, and now set off again from Frankfort in the company 
 of Basedow. But what a difference did I feci when I recalled 
 the gentle spirit which breathed from Lavater ! Pm'e him- 
 self, he created around him a piu-e circle. At his side one 
 became like a maiden, for fear of presenting before him any- 
 thing repulsive. Basedow, on the contrary, being altogether 
 absorbed in himself, could not pay any attention to his 
 external aj)pearance. His ceaseless smoking of wretched 
 tobacco was of itself extremely disagreeable, especially as 
 his pipe was no sooner out, than he brought forth a dirtily 
 prepared kind of tinder, which took fire quickly, but had a 
 most horrid stench, and every time poisoned the air insuffer- 
 ably with the first whiff. I called this preparation " The 
 Basedovian Smellfungus," (Stinlv-schwamm) and declared that 
 it ought to be introduced into Natural History under this 
 name. This greatly amused liim, and to my disgust he 
 minvitely explained the hated preparation, taking a malicious 
 pleasm'e in my aversion from it. It was one of the deeply 
 rooted, disagTceable peculiarities of this admii-ably gifted man
 
 BASEDOW 19 
 
 that he was fond of teasing, and would sting the most dis- 
 passionate jDcrsons. He could never see any one quiet, but 
 he provoked him with mocking irony, in a hoarse voice, or 
 put him to confusion by an unexpected question, and laughed 
 bitterly when he had gained his end; yet he was pleased when 
 the object of his jests was quick enough to collect himself, 
 and gave him a retort. 
 
 How much greater was now my longing for Lavater. He, 
 too, seemed to be rejoiced when he saw me again, and confided 
 to me much that he had learned, especially in reference to the 
 various characters of his fellovv'-guests, among whom he had 
 ah-eady succeeded in making many friends and disciples. For 
 my part I fomid here several old acquaintances, and in those 
 whom I had not seen for many yeai's, I began to notice 
 what in youth long remains concealed from us, namely, that 
 men grow old and women change. The company became 
 more numerous every day. There was no end to the dancing, 
 and, as in the two principal bath-houses, people came into 
 pretty close contact, the familiarity led to many a practical 
 joke. Once I disgiused myself as a village clergyman, while 
 an intimate friend took the character of his wife ; by oiu* 
 excessive and troublesome politeness, we were tolerably 
 amusing to the elegant society, and so put every one into 
 good humor. Of serenades at evening, midnight and morning, 
 there was no lack, and we juniors enjoyed but little sleep. 
 
 To make vip for these dissipations, I always passed a part 
 of the night with Basedow. He never went to bed, but 
 dictated without cessation. Occasionally he cast himself on 
 the couch and slumbered, while his amanuensis sat quietly, 
 pen in hand, ready to continue his work when the half 
 awakened author should once again give free course to his 
 thoughts. All this took place in a close confined chamber, 
 filled with the fumes of tobacco and the odious tinder. As 
 often as I was disengaged fr-om a dance, I hastened up to 
 Basedow, who was ready at once to speak and dispute on any 
 question ; and when after a time, I hiu'ried again to the 
 ball-room, before I had closed the door behind me, he would 
 resume the thread of his essay as composedly as if he had 
 been engaged with nothing else. 
 
 We also made together many excursions into the neigh- 
 borhood, visiting the chateaux, especially those of noble ladies.
 
 20 TKUTH AND rOETKY; FKO.M 5IY OTTX LIFE. 
 
 Avho were everpvhere more inclined than the men, to receive 
 anything that made a pretence to intellect and talent. At 
 IJ^assau, at the house of Frau von Stein, a most estimable 
 lady, who enjoyed universal respect, Ave found a large com- 
 pany. Frau von Laroche was likcAvise present, and there 
 was no lack of young ladies and children. Here Lavater was 
 doomed to be put to many a physiognomical temptation, 
 Avhich consisted mainly in our seeking to palm upon him the 
 accidents of cultivation as origmal forms, but his eye was too 
 siu-c to be deceived. I, too, was called on as much as ever 
 to maintain the truth of the Sorrow.s of Werther, and to name 
 the residence of Charlotte, a desii-e v^^hich I declined to gra- 
 tify-, not in the politest manner. On the other hand I col- 
 lected the children around me in order to tell them very 
 wonderful stories, all about well known things, in which I 
 had the great advantage, that no member of my circle of 
 hearers could ask me with any importunity what part Avas 
 truth and Avhat fiction. 
 
 Basedow affirmed that the only thing necessary Avas a better 
 education of youth, and to promote this end he called upon 
 the higher and Avealthy classes for considerable contributions. 
 But hardly had his reasoning and his impassioned eloquence 
 excited, not to say, won to his purpose, the sympathy of his 
 auditors, when the evil anti-trinitarian spirit came upon him, 
 so that Avithout the least sense of where he Avas, he broke forth 
 into the strangest discourses, Avhich in his own opinion were 
 hiffhlv religious, but according to the convictions of those 
 around him highly blasphemous. All sought a remedy for 
 this evil; Lavater, by gentle seriousness, I, by jests, leading 
 off from the subject, and the ladies by amusing Avalks, but 
 harmony could not be restored. A Chi'istian conA'ersation, 
 such as had been expected from the presence of Lavater. a 
 discoiu-se on education, such as had been anticipated from 
 Basedow, and a sentimental one, for which it Avas thought 
 I should be ready — all were at once distm-bed and destroyed. 
 On our return home, Lavater reproached hira. but I punished 
 him in a humorous way. The Aveather Avas Avarm, and 
 the tobacco-smoke had perhaps contributed to the dry- 
 ness of Basedow's palate ; he Avas dying for a glass of beer, 
 and seeing a tavern at a distance on the road, he eagerly 
 ordered the coachman to stop there. But just as he Avaa
 
 BASEDOW AXD L-VVATEK. 21 
 
 di'iving up to the door, I called out to him loudly and impe- 
 riously, "Go on I"' Basedow, taken by sm-prisc, could hardly 
 get the contrary command out of his husky voice. I urged 
 the coachman more vehemently, and he obeyed me. Basc■do^v 
 cursed me, and -was i-eady to fall on me Avith his fists, but I 
 replied to him with the greatest composure, " Father, bo 
 quiet I You ought to thank , me. Luckily you didn't see 
 the beer-sign ! It was two triangles put together across cacli 
 other. Now joii commonly get mad about one triangle, and 
 if you had set eyes on two, we should have had to get 
 you a strait jacket." This joke threw him into a fit of im- 
 anoderate laughter, in the intervals of which he scolded and 
 cui-sed me, while Lavater exercised his patience on both the 
 young fool and the old one. 
 
 When in the middle of July, Lavater was preparing to 
 depart, Basedow thought it advantageous to join him. while I 
 had become so accustomed to this rare society that I could not 
 bring myself to give it up. We had a delightful journey 
 down the Lahn; it Avas refreshing alike to heart and senses. 
 At the sight of an old ruined castle, I wrote the song " Hock 
 ax(f dem alteii Thurme stcht"' (High on the ancient TuiTct 
 stands), in Lips"s Album, and as it was well received, I 
 ■wrote, after my evil habit, all kinds of doggrcl rhymes 
 and comicalities on the succeeding pages, in order to 
 destroy the impression. I rejoiced to see the magnificent 
 Rhine once more, and Mas delighted with the astonish- 
 ment of those who had never before enjoyed this splendid 
 spectacle. We landed at Coblentz ; wherever Ave Avent. the 
 croAA'd AA-as A-ery great, and each of the tlu-ee excited interest 
 and curiosity. BasedoAv and I seemed to strive Avhich coidd 
 behave most outrageously. LaA'ater conducted himself rati- 
 onally and Avith judgment, only he could not conceal his 
 faA-oritc opinions, and thus with the best designs he appeared 
 very odd to all men of mediocrity. 
 
 I have preserved the memory of a strange dinner at a hotel 
 in Coblentz, in some doggrel rhymes, Avliich Avill, perhaps, 
 stand vnXh. all their kindred m my Xew Edition,. I sat 
 between LaA'ater and BascdoAv; the first Avas instructing a 
 countiy parson on the mysteries of the Revelation of St. John, 
 and the other Avas in vain endeavouring to prove to an 
 •obstinate dancing master, that baptism Avas an obsolete usage
 
 22 TRUTH AXD poetky; from my own life. 
 
 not calculated for our times. As we were going on to 
 Cologne, I '.ATOte in an Album — 
 
 As though to Emmaus, on theii- ride 
 
 Storming they might be seen; 
 The prophets sat on either side. 
 
 The world-child sat between. 
 
 Luckily this world-child had also a side Avhicb was turned 
 towards the heavenly, and which was now to bo moved in a 
 way wholly peculiar, ^^^aile in Ems I had rejoiced to hear 
 that in Cologne we should find the brothers Jacobi, who with 
 other eminent men had set out to meet and show attention to 
 cm" two remarkable travellers. On my part, I hoped for for- 
 giveness from them for sundry little improprieties which had 
 originated in the great love of mischief that Herder's keen 
 humor had excited in us. The letters and poems in which 
 Gleim and George Jacobi publicly rejoiced in each other, had 
 given us opportunity for all sorts of sport, and we had not 
 reflected that there is just as much self-conceit in giving pain 
 to others when they are comfoi-table, as in showing an excess 
 of kindness to oneself or to one's fiiends. By this means, a 
 certain dissension had arisen between the Upper and Lower 
 Rhine, of so slight importance, however, that mediation was 
 easy. For this the ladies were particularly adapted. SojAia 
 Laroche had abeady given us the best idea of the noble 
 brothers. Mademoiselle Falilmer, who had come to Frankfort 
 from Diisseldorf, and who was intimate with their cii-cle, by 
 the great tenderness of her sympathies, and the uncommon 
 cultivation of her mind, furnished an evidence of the worth of 
 the society in which she had grown up. She gradually put 
 us to shame by her patience with our harsh Upper Saxon 
 manner, and taught us forbearance by letting us feeMhat we 
 om-selves stood in need of it. The true-heartedness of the 
 yomiger sister of the Jacobis, the gaiety of the wife of Fritz 
 Jacobi, tm-ncd oiu" minds and eyes more and more to these 
 regions. The latter was qualified to captivate me entirely ; 
 possessed of a correct feeling without a trace of sentimen- 
 tality, and with a lively way of speaking, she was a fine 
 Netherlands' woman, who Avithout any expression of sensu- 
 ality, by her robust nature called to mind the women of 
 Rubens. Both these ladies, in longer and shorter visits at
 
 THE BKOTIIEES JACOBI. 23 
 
 Frankfort, had formed the closest alliance with my sister, and 
 had expanded and enlivened the severe, stiff, and somewhat 
 loveless natui-e of Cornelia. Thus Diisseldorf and Pcmpclfort 
 had interested our minds and hearts, even in Frankfort. 
 
 Accordinglj- our first meeting in Cologne was at once frank 
 and confidential, for the good opinion of the ladies had not 
 been without its influence at home.' I was not now treated, 
 as hitherto on the journey, as the mere misty tail of the two 
 great comets; all around paid me particidar attention, and 
 showed me abimdant kiudiicss, which they also seemed in- 
 clined to receive from me in return. I was weary of my 
 pre-vious follies and impertinences, behind which, in truth, I 
 only hid my impatience, to find during the journey so little 
 care taken "^to satisfy my heart and soul. Hence, what was 
 within me, burst out like a ton-ent, and this is perhaps the 
 reason why I recollect so little of individual events. The 
 thoughts we have had, the pictures v/c have seen, can be 
 again called up before the mind and the imagination; but the 
 heart is not so complaisant ; it will not repeat its agreeable 
 emotions. And least of all are we able to recall moments 
 of enthusiasm ; they come upon us tmprepared, and we yield 
 to them unconsciously. For this reason, others, who observe 
 us at such moments have a better and clearer insight into what 
 passes within us, than we ourselves. 
 
 Religious conversations I had hitherto gently declined; to 
 plain questions, I had not mifrequently replied with harshness, 
 because they seemed to me too narrow in comparison with 
 what I sought. When any one wished to force upon me his 
 sentiments and opinions of my compositions, but especially 
 when I was afflicted with the demands of common sense, and 
 people told me decidedly what I ought to have done or left 
 tmdone, I got out of all patience, and the conversation broke 
 off, or cnmiblcd to pieces, so that no one went away with a 
 particularly good opinion of me. It woidd have been much 
 more natural to make myself gentle and friendly, but my 
 feelings would not be schooled. They needed to be expanded 
 by free good wiQ and to be moved to a sun-ender by sincere 
 sympathy. One feeling which prevailed greatly with me, 
 and could never find an expression odd enough for itself, 
 was a sense of the past and present together in one ; a 
 phenomenon which brought something spectral into the pre-
 
 24 TRUTH AXD POETRY t FROM MY 0"SVN LIFE. 
 
 sent. It is expressed in many of my smaller and larger 
 works, and always has a beneficial influence in a poem, 
 though, whenever it began to mix itself up Avith actual life, it 
 must have appeared to every one strange, inexplicable, per- 
 haps gloomy. 
 
 Cologne was the place where antiquity had such an incal- 
 culable effect upon me. The ruins of the Cathedral (for an 
 unfinished work is like one destroyed) called up the emotions 
 to which I had been accustomed at Strasburg. Artistic 
 considerations were out of the question. ; too much and too 
 little was given me : and there was no one who could help me 
 out of the labp-inih of what was performed and -what was 
 proposed, of the fact and the plan, of what was built and 
 what was only designed, as oui" industrious, persevci-ing 
 friends nowadays are ready to do. In company with others 
 I did indeed admii-e its wonderful chapels and columns, biit 
 when alone I always gloomily lost myself in this world-edifice, 
 thus checked in its creation while far from complete. Here, 
 too, was a great idea never realized ! It woidd seem, indeed, 
 as if the architecture were there only to convince us that by 
 many men, in a series of years, nothing can be accomplished, 
 and that in art and in deeds only that is achieved which, like 
 Minerva, springs fvdl-grown and armed from the head of its 
 inventor. * 
 
 At these moments, which oppressed more than they cheered 
 my heart, I little thought that the tenderest and fairest 
 emotion was in store for me near at hand. I was persuaded 
 to visit Jappachs house, and here all that I had been wont to 
 form for myself in my mind came actually and sensibly 
 before my eyes. This family had probably long ago become 
 extinct, but on the gi'ound floor which opened upon a garden, 
 we found eveiything unchanged. A pavement of brownish 
 red tiles, of a rliomboidal form regiilai'ly laid, carved chau*s 
 with embroidered seats and high backs, flap-tables, metal 
 chandeliers curiously inlaid, on hea^y feet, an immense fire- 
 place with its appropriate utensils, everything in hamiony 
 with those early times, and in the whole room nothing new, 
 nothing belonging to the present but ourselves. But what 
 mere than all heightened and completed the emotions thus 
 strangely excited, was a large family pictm-e over the fire- 
 place. There sat the former wealthy inhabitant of this abode
 
 FKITZ JACOBl. 25 
 
 suiTOimclccl by his wife and cliildren, — there were they in all 
 the freslmess of Hfc, and as if of yesterday, or rather of 
 to-day, and yet all of them had passed away. These young-, 
 round-cheeked children had grown old, and but for this clever 
 likeness, not a trace of them vrould have remained. How I 
 acted, how I demeaned myself, when overcome by these im- 
 pressions I cannot say. The lowest depths of my human 
 affections and poetic sensibilities were laid bare in the bound- 
 less stin-ing of my heart ; all that was good and loving in my 
 soul seemed to open and break forth. In that moment with- 
 out fm-ther probation or debate, I gained for life the affection 
 and confidence of those eminent men. 
 
 As a result of this union of soul and intellect, in which all 
 that was living in each came foith upon his lips, I offered to 
 recite my newest and most favorite ballads. ''Der Konig von 
 77w.le," '{The king of Thule,) and "^s war ei'n Bale frech 
 </enu(j" (There was a rascal bold enough*,) had a good 
 effect, and I bvought them forth with more feeling as my 
 poems were still bou*id to my heart, and as they seldom 
 passed my lips. For in the presence of persons, who I feared 
 could not sympathize with my tender sensibility, I felt re- 
 strained ; and frequently, in the midst of a recitation. I have 
 become confused and could not get right again. How often 
 for that reason have I been accused of wilfuhiess, and of a 
 strange, whimsical disposition ! 
 
 Although poetic composition, just then, mainly occupied 
 me and exactly suited my temperament, I was still no stranger 
 to reflection on all kinds of subjects, and Jacobi's tendency to 
 the unfathomable, which Avas so original, and so much in 
 accordance M'ith his nature, was most welcome and agree- 
 able to me. Here no controversy arose, neither a Christian 
 one, as with Lavater, nor a didactic one, as with Basedow. 
 The thoughts which Jacobi imparted to me floM'cd immedi- 
 ately from his heart. How profoundly was I moved when in 
 unlimited confidence, he revealed to me even the most hidden 
 longings of his soul! From so amazing a combination of 
 mental wants, passion, and ideas, I could only gather pre- 
 sentiments of what might, perhaps, afterwards gi-ow more deal* 
 
 * The title of the poem is " Der untreue Knabe," (The Faithless Bey), 
 and in the first line of it, as published in Gothe's collected works, 
 "Knabe" will be found instead of "Bube"— Trans.
 
 26 TRUTH AXD poeiky; feom my cwn life. 
 
 to me. Happily, I had already prepared if not fully culti- 
 vated myself on this side, having in some degree appropriated 
 the thoughts and mind of an extraordinary man, and though 
 my study of him had been incomplete and hasty, I was 
 yet alreadly conscious of important influences derived from 
 this source. This mind, which had worked upon me thus de- 
 cisively, and which was destined to affect so deeply my whole 
 mode of thinking, was Spinoza. After looking through the 
 world in vain, to find a means of development for my strange 
 natui'e, I at last fell upon the Ethics of this philosopher. Of 
 what I read out of the work, and of what I read into it, I can 
 give no account. Enough that I found in it a sedative for 
 my passions, and that a free, ^^'ide view over the sensible and 
 moral world, seemed to open before me. But what especially 
 riveted me to him, was the utter disinterestedness which 
 shone forth in his every sentence. That wonderful senti- 
 ment, " He who truly loves God must not desii-e God to love 
 him in retm-n," together with all the preliminaiy propositions 
 on which it rests, and aU the consequences that follow from 
 it, fiUed my whole mind. To be disinterested in everything, 
 but the most of all in love and friendship, was my highest 
 desii'e, my maxim, my practice, so that that subsequent hasty 
 saving of mine, "If I love thee M'hat is that to thee?" was 
 spoken right out of my heart. Moreover, it must not be 
 forgotten here that the closest imions are those of opposites. 
 The all-composing calmness of Spinoza was in striking con- 
 trast ■o'ith my aU-disturbing activity ; his mathematical method 
 was the direct opposite of my poetic humom- and my way of 
 ■RTiting, and that very precision which was thought ill-adapted 
 to moral subjects, made me his enthusiastic disciple, his most 
 decided worshipper. Mind and heart, understanding and 
 sense, sought each other with an eager affinitv, bindins: toare- 
 ther the most difierent natures. 
 
 At this time, however, all within M'as fermenting and 
 seething in the first action and reaction. Fritz Jacobi, the 
 first whom I suflcred to look into the chaos, and whose natiu-e 
 was also toiling in its own extreme depths, heartily received 
 my confidence, responded to it, and endeavored to lead me to 
 his own opinions. He, too, felt an unspeakable mental want ; 
 he, too, did not wish to have it appeased by outward aid, but 
 aimed at development and illumination from within. I could
 
 PAINTINGS BY WEENIX. 2.7 
 
 not compreliond what he communicated to me of the state 
 of his mind, so much the less indeed, because I could fonn no 
 idea as to my o-wti. Still, as he was far in advance of me in 
 philosophical thought, and even iii the study of Spinoza, he 
 endeavored to guide and enlighten my obscure efforts. Such 
 a purely intellectual relationship was new to me, and excited 
 a passionate longing for fui'ther communion. At night, after 
 we had parted and retired to oiu: chambers, I often sought 
 him again. "With the moonlight trembling over the broad 
 Rhine, we stood at the window, and revelled in that full 
 interchange of ideas wloich in such splendid moments of 
 confidence swells forth so abundantly. 
 
 Still, of the xmspeakable joy of those moments I can now 
 give no account. Much more distinct to my mmd is an ex- 
 cursion to the himting-seat of Bensberg, which, lying on the 
 right shore of the Rhine, commanded the most splendid pro- 
 spect. AVhat delighted me beyond measm-e was the decora- 
 tions of the walls by AVeenix. They represented a large open 
 hall surrounded by columns, at the foot of these, as if fonning 
 the plinth, lay all the animals that the chase can furnish sldlfully 
 an'auged, and over these again the eye ranged over a wide 
 landscape. The wonderM artist had expended his whole skill 
 in giving life to these lifeless creatures. In the delineation of 
 their widely vaiying coats, the bristles, hair, or feathers, with 
 the antlers and claws, he had equalled natiu-e, while, in the 
 effect produced, he had excelled her. "When we had admired 
 these works of art sufficiently, as a whole, we were led to 
 reflect on the handUng by which such pictures, combining so 
 much spirit and mechanical skill, were produced. We could 
 not understand how they could be created by the hands of 
 man, or by any of his instruments. The pencil was not suffi- 
 cient : peculiar preparations nuist be supposed to make such 
 variety possible. Whether we came close to them, or with- 
 drew to a distance, om- astonishment was equal; the cause 
 was as wonderful as the effect. 
 
 Our further jom-ncy up the Rhine was happy and for- 
 timate. The widening of the river invites the mind to 
 expand itself likeM'ise, and to look into the distance. We 
 arrived at Diisseldorf, and from thence came to Pempelfort, a 
 most delightful and beautiful resting-place, where a spacious 
 mansion, opening upon extensive and well-kept gardens, col-
 
 28 XIIUTII AND rOEIKY; FKOM MV OWX LIFE. 
 
 lected tog-ether a tlioughful and refined circle. The members 
 of the family were numerous, and strangers, who fomid 
 abundant enjoyment in so rich and agreeable a neighbour- 
 hood were never wanting. 
 
 In the Diisseldorf gallery my predilection for the Flemish 
 school found plentiful nourishment. There were whole halls 
 filled with these vigorous, sturdy pictm-es, brilliant with a 
 fulness of nature ; and, if my judgment Avas not enlarged, my 
 store of knowledge was enriched and my love for art con- 
 iii'med. 
 
 The beautiful comjoosure, contentment, and firmness, which 
 marked the leading character of this family circle, quickly 
 manifested themselves to the observant eye of the thoughtful 
 guest, who could not fail to perceive that a vride sphere of 
 influences had here its centre. The activity and opulence 
 of the neighboring cities and villages contributed not a little 
 to enhance this feeling of inward satisfaction. We visited 
 Elberfeld, and were delighted with the busy aspect of so 
 many flom'ishing manufactories. Here we fell in again with 
 oui- fi'iend Jung, commonly known as Stilling, who had gone 
 even to Coblentz to meet us; and who alwaj^s had his faith 
 in God and his truth towards men, as his most precious at- 
 tendants. Here we saw him in his oAAm circle, and took 
 pleasure in the confidence reposed in him by his fellow citi- 
 zens, who, though occupied Avith earthly gain, did not leaA'e 
 the heavenly treasm-es out of A"ieAV. The sight of this indus- 
 trious region Avas satisfactory, because its prosperity Avas the 
 result of order and neatness. In the contemplation of these 
 things Ave passed happy days. 
 
 ^Mien I returned to my friend Jacobi, I enjoyed the rap- 
 tiu'ous feeling springing from a union of the innermost soul. 
 We Avere both inspired by tlie liveliest hope of an influence 
 in common, and I urgently pressed him to make an exhi- 
 bition in some striking form or other of all that Avas acting 
 and moving Avithin liim. This Avas the means by Avhich I had 
 escaped from many perplexities, and I hoped that it Avould 
 I'clieve him also. He did not object, but undertook the task 
 Avith zeal, and hoAv much that is good, and beautiful, and 
 consolatory, has he accomplished ! ^\nd so, at last, we 
 parted Avith the happy feelir.g of eternal imion, and wholly 
 without a presentiment that our labors Avould assume the
 
 INTENDED DRAMA OF MAHOMPTT. 29 
 
 opposite directions, which, in the course of life, they so 
 markedly took. 
 
 Whatever else occun-ed to mo on the return down the Rhine 
 has altogether vanished from my memory, partly because the 
 second impressions of natm-al objects are Mont, in my mind, 
 to be mingled Avith the first: and partly because, with my 
 thoughts turned inwardly, I was endeavouring to arrange the 
 varied experience I on myself had gained, and to work up 
 Avhat had affected mc. Of one important result, as it im- 
 pelled me to creative efforts, which kept me occupied for a 
 long time, I will now speak. 
 
 With my lawless disposition, with a life and action so aim- 
 less and pm-poseless, the observation could not long escape 
 me that Lavater and Basedow employed intellectual and even 
 spiritual means for earthly ends. It soon struck me, who 
 spent my talents and my days on no object whatc-ser, that 
 these two men, while endeavoring, to preach their doctrines, 
 to teach and to convince, had each in his omti way, certain 
 views in the background — the advancement of which was, to 
 them, of gi-eat consequence. Lavater went to v/ork gently 
 and prudently, Basedow' ^•ehemently, rudely, and even awk- 
 wardly; but both were so convinced of the excellence of their 
 favorite schemes and undertakings, and their mode of prose- 
 cuting them, that so far all were compelled to look upon them 
 as men of sincerity, and .to love and to honor them as such. 
 In praise of Lavater especially, it could be said that he 
 actually had higher objects, and, if he acted according to the 
 wisdom of this world, it was in the belief that the end would 
 hallow the means. As I observed them both, nay, indeed 
 frankly told them my opinions and heard theirs in retm-n, the 
 thought arose in me that every highly-gifted man is called 
 upon to diffuse whatever there is of divine within him. In 
 attempting this, however, he comes in contact with the rough 
 world, and, in order to act upon it, he must put himself on 
 the same level. Thus, in a great measm-e he compromises 
 his high advantages, and finally forfeits them altogether. 
 The heavenly, the eternal, is buried in a body oT tarthl}' 
 designs, and hmi-ied with it to the fate of the transient. 
 From this point of view I now regarded the career of these 
 two men, and they seemed to me, worthy both of honor and 
 of compassion ; for I thought I could foresee that each would
 
 30 TRUTH AND POETRY; mOlI MY OAVN LIFE 
 
 be compelled to sacrifice the higher to the lower. As I 
 pursued this reflection to the farthest extremity, aud looked 
 beyond the limits of my narrow expeiience for similar cases 
 in history, the plan occuiTcd to me of taking the life of 
 Mahomet, whom I had never been able to think an impostor, 
 for a di'amatic exhibition of those courses which in actual 
 life, I was strongly convinced, invariably lead to ruin much 
 more than to good. I had shortly before read with great 
 interest, and studied the life of the Eastern Prophet, and was 
 therefore tolerably prepared when the thought occui-red to 
 me. The sketch approached on the whole to the regular form 
 to which I was again inclining, although I still used in mode- 
 ration the liberty gained for the stage, and arranged time and 
 place according to my o\^^l pleasm-e. The piece began with 
 Mahomet alone under the open sky, singing a hj-mn. In it 
 he adores first of all the imiumerable stars as so many gods ; 
 but as the friendly star. Gad (om- .Jupiter) rises, he offer's to 
 him, as the king of the stars, exclusive adoration. Not long 
 after the moon ascends the horizon, and wins the eye and 
 heart of the worshipper, who, presently refreshed and 
 strengthened by the dawning sun, is called upon for new 
 praises. But these changing phenomena, however delightful, 
 are still imsatisfactory and the mind feels that it must rise 
 yet above itself. It momits, therefore, to God, the Only, 
 Eternal, Infinite, to whom all these splendid yet limited 
 creatures owe their existence. I composed this hymn with 
 great deHght ; it is now lost, but might easily be restored for 
 the purpose of a cantata, and would commend itself to the 
 musical composer by the variety of its expression. It would, 
 however, be necessary to imagine it sung, according to the 
 original plan, by the conductor of a caravan with his family 
 and tribe; and thus the alternation of the voices, and the 
 sti'ength of the chorus, would be pro^■idcd for. 
 
 After Mahomet has thus converted himself, he imparls 
 these feelings and sentiments to his friends. His wife and 
 Ali become his disciples without reserve. In the second act, 
 he zealously attempts, supported by the still more ardent Ali, 
 to propagate this faith in the tribe. Assent and opposition 
 follow the variety of character. The contest begins, the 
 strife becomes violent, and Mahomet is compelled to flee. 
 In the third act, he defeats his enemies, and making his
 
 IXTE>'DED DRAMA OF MAHOMET. 31 
 
 religion the public one, purifies the Kaaba from idols ; but, as 
 all this cannot be done by power, he is obliged to resort to 
 cunning. "WTiat in his character is earthly increases and 
 extends itself; the divine retires and is obscm-ed. In the 
 fourth act, Mahomet pursues his conquests, his doctrine be- 
 comes a pretence rather than an end; all conceivable means 
 must be employed, and barbarities become abundant. A 
 woman, whose husband has been put to death by Mahomet's 
 order, poisons him. In the fifth act, he feels that he is 
 poisoned. His great calmness, the return to himself, and to 
 a, liigher sense, make him worthy of admiration. He purifies 
 his doctrine, establishes his kingdom, and dies. 
 
 Such was the sketch of a work ^A•hich long occupied my 
 mind, for usually I was obliged to have the materials in my 
 head, before I commenced the execution. I meant, to repre- 
 sent the power which genius exercises over men by character 
 and intellect, and what are its gains and losses in the pro- 
 cess. Several of the songs, to be introduced in the di-ama, 
 w^cre composed beforehand; all that remains of them, how- 
 ever, is what stands among my poems under the title '■ 3Ia ho- 
 me fs Gesang^' (Mahomet's Song). According to the plan, 
 this was to be smig by Ali in honor of his master, at the 
 highest point of his success, just before the changed aspect of 
 afiaii-s resulting from the poison. I recollect also the out- 
 lines of several scenes, but the explanation of them here 
 ■would lead me too far.
 
 FIFTEENTH BOOK. 
 
 From these manifold dissipations, wliicli, however, generally 
 gave occasion for serious, and even religious reflections, I 
 always retimicd to my noble friend, Frauleiii von Klettenberg, 
 whose presence calmed, at least for a moment, my stormy 
 and undirected impulses and passions, and to whom next to 
 my sister, I liked best to communicate designs like that I 
 have just spoken of. I might, indeed, have perceived that 
 her health was constantly failing, but I concealed it from 
 myself, and this I was the better able to do as her cheerful- 
 ness increased with her illness. She used to sit, neatly 
 di-essed, in her chair at the window, and kindly listened to the 
 narratives of my little expeditions as well as to what I read 
 aloud to her. Often, too, I made sketches, in order to make 
 her luiderstand the better the description of the places I had 
 seen. One evening, I had been recalling to my mind many 
 different images ; when in the light of the setting sim she 
 and all aroimd her appeared before me, as if transfigm-ed, and 
 I could not refrain from making a di'awing of her and of the 
 suiTounding objects in the chamber, as well as my poor skill 
 l^ermitted. In the hands of a skilful artist like Kersting it 
 Avouid haA"e made a beautiful picture. I sent it to a fair 
 friend at a distance, and added a song as commentary and 
 supplement : 
 
 In this magic glass reflected 
 See a vision, mild and bless'd; 
 
 By the wing of God jDrotected, 
 
 See our fiiend, while suffering, rest. 
 
 Mark, how her endeavours bore her 
 From life's waves to realms above; 
 
 See thine image stand before her. 
 And the God, who died from love. 
 
 Feel what I, amid the floating 
 -' Of that heavenly ether, knew ; 
 
 When the first impression noting. 
 Hastily this sketch I cbew.
 
 THE MOKAYIA^^^S. 33 
 
 Though in these stanzas, as had often ha})peucd before, I 
 expressed myself as "a stranger and foreigner," in short, as 
 a heathen, she did not take oiFence at it. On the contrary, 
 she assured me that in so doing I pleased her much more than 
 when I attempted to employ the Christian terminology, which 
 somehow I could never apply correctly. Indeed, it had be- 
 come a standing custom with me, whenever I read to her 
 missionary intelligence, which she was always fond of listen- 
 ing to, to take the part of the Pagans against the missionaries, 
 and to praise their old condition as preferable to their new 
 one. Still she was ever gentle and friendly, and seemed not 
 to have the least fear about me or my salvation. 
 
 My gradual alienation from her creed arose from the fact 
 that I had laid hold of it at first with too great zeal, with 
 passionate love. Ever since I became more intimately ac- 
 quainted with the Moravians, my inclination to this Society. 
 Avhich had united under the victorious banners '^f Christ, had 
 constantly increased. It is exactly in the moment of its ear- 
 liest formation that a positive religion possesses its greatest 
 attraction. On that account it is delightful to go back to the 
 time of the Apostles, where all stands forth as fresh and im- 
 mediately spiritual. -4nd thus it was that the Moravian doc- 
 trine acquired something of a magical charm by appearing to 
 continue or rather to perpetuate the condition of those iirst 
 times. It connected its origin with theni; when it seemed 
 to perish, it still wound its way through the world, although 
 by imnoticed tendrils; at last one little germ took root 
 beneath the protection of a pious and eminent man, and 
 so from an unnoticed and apparently accidental beginning 
 expanded once more over the wide world. In tliis Society, the 
 most important point, was the inseparable combination of the 
 reUgieus and civil constitution by which the teacher was at 
 the same time the ruler, and the ftither the judge. What was 
 still more distinctive of their fraternity was that the religious 
 head, to whom milimited faith was yielded in spiritual things, 
 Avas also intrusted with the guidance of tem])oral affliirs, and 
 his counsels, whether for the government of the whole "body, 
 or for the guidance of individuals, if confirmed by the issue of 
 the lot, were implicitly foilov,-cd. Its peace and hannony, 
 to which at least outward appearances testified, Avas most 
 aUuring, while, on the other hand, the missionary vocation 
 YoL. II. D
 
 34 TEUTH AND POEIKY; FBOM MIT OWN LIFE. 
 
 seemed to call forth and to give emploTmcnt to all man's 
 active powers. The excellent persons whose acquaintance I 
 made at Marienborn, wliich I had ■visited in the company of 
 Councillor Moritz, the agent of Count von Isenburg, had 
 gained my imquaUfied esteem, and it only depended on them- 
 selves to make me their own. I studied their history, and 
 their doctrine, and the origin and growth of their society, so 
 as to be able to give an accoimt of it and to talk about it 
 to all who might feel interested in it. Nevertheless, the con- 
 viction was soon forced upon me that with the brethren I did 
 not pass for a Christian any more than I did with Fraulein 
 von Klettenberff. At first this distiu'bed me, but afterwards 
 my inclination to them became somewhat cooler. However, 
 I could not for a long time discover the precise groimd of 
 difference, although it was obvious enough, imtil at last, it 
 was forced upon me more by accident than by reflection. 
 What separated me fi-om this brotherhood, as well as from 
 other good Christian souls, was the very point on which the 
 Church has more than once fallen into dissension. On the 
 one hand, it was maintained that by the Fall human uatme 
 had been so coiTupted to its innermost core, that not the 
 least good covdd be found in it, and that therefore man must 
 renounce all trust in his own powers, and look to grace and 
 its operations for everything. The other paii;y, while it ad- 
 mitted the hereditary imperfections of man, nevertheless 
 ascribed to nature a certain germ of good within, which, ani- 
 mated by di"\'ine grace, was capable of growing up to a joyous 
 tree of spiritual happiness. By this latter conviction I was 
 unconsciously penetrated to my inmost soul, even while 
 with tongue and pen I maintained the opposite side. But I 
 had hitherto gone on with such Ul-denned ideas, that I had 
 never once clearly stated the dilemma to myself. From this 
 dream I was unexpectedly roused one day, when, in a reli- 
 gious conversation, having distinctly advanced opinions, to 
 my mind, most innocent, I had in retiu-n to undergo a severe 
 lecture. The very thought of such a thing, it was maintained, 
 was genuine Pelagianism, a pernicious docti-ine which was 
 again appearing, to the great injurj- of modem times. I was 
 astonished and even terrified. I went back to Church liis- 
 tory, studied the doctrine and fate of Pelagius more closely, 
 and now saw clearly how these two irreconcilable opinions had
 
 THE WANDERING JEW. 35 
 
 fluctuated in favour through whole centuries, aud had been 
 embraced and acknowledged by different men, according as 
 they were of a more active or of a more passive nature. 
 
 The course of past years had constantly led me more 
 and more to the exercise of my o^vn powers. A restless ac- 
 tivity was at work within me, with the best desire for moral 
 development. The world without demanded that this activity 
 should be regulated and employed for the advantage of others, 
 and this great demand I felt called upon in my own case to 
 meet. On all sides I had been directed to nature, and she had 
 appeared to me in her whole magnificence ; I had been ac- 
 quainted with many good and true men who were toiling to 
 do their duty, and for the sake of duty; to renounce them, 
 nay to renounce myself, seemed impossible. The gulf which 
 separated me from the doctrine of man's total depravity now 
 became plain to me. Nothing, therefore, remained to me but 
 to part from this society; and as my love of the holy Scrip- 
 tures, as well as of the founder of Christianity and its early 
 professors, could not be taken from me, I formed a Chris- 
 tianity for my private iise, and sought to establish and build 
 it up by an attentive study of histoiy and a careful obser- 
 vation of those who were favourable to my opinion. 
 
 As everything which I once warmly embraced immediately 
 put on a poetic form, I now took up the strange idea of 
 treating epically the history of the Wandering Jew, which 
 popular books had long since impressed upon my mind. My 
 design was to bring out in the course of the narrative such 
 prominent points of the history of religion and tlie Church as 
 I should find convenient. I will now explain the waj- iu 
 which I treated this fable, and what meaning I gave to it. 
 
 In Jerusalem, according to the legend, there was a shoe- 
 maker, of the name of Ahasuerus. For this character my 
 Dresden shoemaker was to supply the main features. I had 
 furnished him with the spirit and humor of a craftsman of 
 the school of Hans Sachs, and ennobled him by an inclination 
 to Christ. Accordingly as, in his open workshop, he liked to 
 talk M-ith the passers-by, jested with them, and, after the 
 Socratic fashion, touched up every one in his own way, the 
 neighbors and others of the people took pleasure in lingering 
 at his booth ; even Pharisees and Sadducecs spoke to him, 
 and the Savioiu- himself and his disciples would often stop at 
 
 i> 2
 
 36 TKUTH AXD poetey; fkom my own life. 
 
 his door. The shoemaker, whose thoughts were directed solely 
 towards the world, I painted as feeling, nevertheless, a special 
 aifection for our Lord, which, for the most p;u't, evinced itself 
 by a desire to bring this lofty being, whese mind he did not 
 comprehend, over to his own way of thinking and acting. 
 Accordingly, in a modest manner, he recommends Clirist to 
 abandon his contemplative life, and to leave oflF going about 
 the country with such idlers, and drawing the people away 
 from their labor into the wildei-ness. A multitude, he said, 
 was always ready for excitement, and nothing good could 
 come of it. 
 
 On the other hand, the Lord endeavoured, by parables, to 
 instruct him in his higher views and aims, but these were all 
 thrown away on his mere matter-of-fact intellect. Thus, as 
 Christ becomes more and more an important character, and 
 finally a public person, the friendly workman pronoimces 
 his opinion still more sharply and vehemently, maintaining 
 that nothing but disorder and tuniidt could follow from such 
 proceedings, and that Christ would be at last compelled to 
 put himself at the head of a part)', though tliat could not 
 possibly be his design. Finally, when things had taken the 
 course which history narrates, and Clu'ist had been seized and 
 condemned, Ahasuerus gives fvdl vent to his indignation when 
 Judas who undesignedly had betrayed his Lord, in his despair- 
 enters the workshop, and with lamentations relates how his 
 plans had been crossed. He had been, he said, as well as the 
 shrewdest of the other disciples, firmly convinced that Christ 
 woidd declare himself regent and head of the nation. His 
 purpose was only, by this violence, to compel the Lord, whose 
 hesitation had hitherto been invincible, to hasten the declara- 
 tion. Accordingly, he had incited the priesthood to an act 
 Avliich previously they had not courage to do. The disci^^les, 
 on theii* side, were not without arms, and jirobably all 
 would have turned out well, if the Lord had not given himself 
 up, and left them in the most forlorn state. Aliasuerus, whom 
 this naiTative in no ways tends to propitiate, only exasperates 
 the agony of the poor ex-apostle, who rushes out and goes 
 and hangs himself. 
 
 As Jesus is led past the workshoji of the shoemaker, on his 
 Tf'ay to execution, the well-known scene of the legend occurs. 
 The sufferer faints uaider the burden of the cross, and Simon
 
 THE WANDERING JEW. Oi 
 
 of Cyreue is compelled to eany it. Upon this, Aliasuerus 
 comes forward, and sustains the part of those harsh common- 
 sense people, who, when they see a man involved in misfor- 
 tune through his o^™ faidt, feel no pity, but, struck by an 
 untimely sense of justice, make the matter worse by thcii- 
 reproaches. As he comes out, he repeats all his former warn- 
 ings, changing them into vehement accusations, which his 
 attachment to the sufferer seems to justify. The Saviour does 
 not ansvv-er, but at the instant the loA-ing Veronica covers his 
 face with the napkin, on which, as she removes it and raises 
 it aloft, Ahasuerus sees depicted the features of the Lord, not 
 indeed as those of the sufferer of the moment, but as of one 
 transfigured and radiant with celestial life. Amazed by this 
 phenomenon, he turns away liis eyes and hears the words : 
 •' Over the earth shalt thou wander till thou shalt once more 
 see me in this form." Overwhelmed at the sentence, it is not 
 till after some time that the artisan comes to himself; he then 
 finds that every one has gone to the place of execution and 
 that the streets of Jerusalem are empty. Disquiet and 
 curiosity drive him forth, and he begins his wandering. 
 
 I shall, perhaps, speak elsewhere of all this, and of the inci- 
 dent by which the poem was ended indeed, but not finished. 
 The beginning, some detached passages, and the conclusion, 
 were written. But I never completed the work. I lacked 
 time for the stiulies necessary to give it the finish and bearing 
 that I wished. The few sheets which I did Avrite were the 
 more willingly left to repose in obscurity, as a new and ne- 
 cessary epoch was now formed in my mental character by the 
 publication of Wcrther. 
 
 The common fate of man, which aU of us have to bear, must 
 fall most heavily on those whose intellectual powers expand 
 very early. For a time w^e may grow up under the protection 
 of parents and relatives ; we may lean for a while upon our 
 brothers and sisters and friends, be supported by acquaint- 
 ances, and made happy by those we love, but in the end man 
 is always driven back upon himself, and it seems as if the 
 Divinity had taken a position towards men so as not always 
 to respond to their reverence, trust, and love, at least not in 
 the precise moment of need. Early enough, and by many a 
 hard lesson, had I learned that at the most lu-gcnt crises the 
 call to us is, " Physician, heal thyself;"' and how frequently
 
 38 TRUTH AXD POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 had I been compelled to sigh out in pain, " I tread the wine- 
 press alone!" So now, while I was looking about for the 
 means of establishing my independence, I felt that the sui-est 
 basis on which to build was my own creative talents. For 
 many years I had never known it to fail me for a mo- 
 ment. What, waking, I had seen by day, often shaped itself 
 into regular dreams at night, and when I opened my eyes 
 there appeared to mc either a wonderful new whole, or a 
 part of one ah-cady commenced. Usually, my time for writ- 
 ing was early in the morning, but still in the evening, or even 
 late at night, when wine and social intercourse had raised my 
 spirits, I was ready for any topic that might be suggested; 
 only let a subject of some character be offered, and I was at 
 once prepared and ready. While, then, I reflected upon this 
 natural gift, and found that it belonged to me as my own, and 
 could neither be favoured nor hindered by any external mat- 
 ters, I easily in thought built my whole existence upon it. 
 This conception soon assumed a distinct form ; the old mytho- 
 logical image of Prometheus occurred to mc, who, separated 
 from the gods, peopled a world from his own work-shop. 
 I clearly felt that a creation of importance could be produced 
 only when its author isolated himself. My productions which 
 had met with so much applause wore children of soUtude, and 
 .since I had stood in a wider relation to the world, I had not 
 been wanting in the power or the pleasure of invention, but 
 the execution halted, because I had, neither in prose nor in 
 verse, a style jiroperly my owti, and, consequently, with everj^ 
 new work, had always to begin at the beginning and try ex- 
 periments. As in this I had to decline and even to exclude 
 the aid of men, so, after the fashion of Prometheus, I separated 
 myself from the gods also, and the more naturally as with my 
 character and mode of thinking one tendency always swallowed 
 up and repelled all others. 
 
 The fable of Prometheus became living in me. The old 
 Titan Aveb I cut up according to my own measurements, and 
 without further I'cflection began to Avrite a piece in which was 
 painted the difficulty Prometheus was placed in Avith respect 
 to Jupiter and the later gods, in consequence of his making 
 men with liis own hand, giving them life by the aid of ^Minerva, 
 and foimdiug a tliii-d dynasty. And, in fact, the reigning 
 gods had good cause to feel aggrieved, since they might now
 
 PROMETHEUS. 39 
 
 appear in the light of wrongful intruders between the Titans 
 and men. To this singvilax composition belongs as a mono- 
 logue that poem, which has become remarkable in German 
 literature, by having called forth a declaration from Lessing 
 agaiast Jacobi on certain weighty matters of thought and 
 feeling. It thus served as the match to an explosion which 
 revealed and brought into discussion the most secret relations 
 of men of worth; — relations of which they perhaps were not 
 themselves conscious, and which were slumbering ia a society 
 otherwise most enlightened. The schism was so violent, that, 
 with the concuiTence of further incidents, it caused us the 
 loss of one of our most valuable men, namely, Mendelssohn. 
 
 Although philosophical and even religions considerations 
 may be, and before now have been attached to this subject, 
 still it belongs peculiarly to poetry. The Titans are the foil 
 of pol}i:heism, as the devil may be considered the foil of 
 monotheism, though, like the only God to whom he stands in 
 contrast, he is not a poetic figure. The Satan of Milton, 
 though boldly enough drawn, stiU. remains in the disadvan- 
 tageous light of a subordinate existence attempting to destroy 
 the splendid creation of a higher being ; Prometheus, on the 
 contraiy, has this advantage, that, even in spite of superior 
 beings, he is able to act and to create. It is also a beautiful 
 thought, and well suited to poetry, to represent men as created 
 not by the Supreme Ruler of the world, but by an interme- 
 diate agent, who, however, as a descendant of the most ancient 
 dynasty, is of worth and importance enough for such an office. 
 Thus, and indeed under every aspect, the Grecian mythology 
 is an inexhaustible mine of divine and human sjinbols. 
 
 Nevertheless, the Titanic, gigantic, heaven-storming cha- 
 racter afforded no suitable material for my poetic art. It bet- 
 ter suited me to represent that peaceful, plastic, and always 
 patient opposition which recognising the superior power, stiU 
 presumes to claim equality. And yet the bolder members of 
 the race, Tantalus, Ixiou, Sisyphus, were also my saints. Ad- 
 mitted to the society of the gods, they would not deport 
 themselves submissively enough, but, by their haughty bear- 
 ing as guests, provoked the anger of their host and patron, 
 and drew upon themselves a sorrowful banishment. J pitied 
 them ; their condition had already been set forth by the an- 
 cients as truly tragic, and when I introduced them in the
 
 40 TKL'IH AND POETKY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 back-ground of my Iphigenie, I was indebted to tbem for a 
 part of the effect wliich that piece had the good fortune to 
 produce. 
 
 At this period I usually combiued the art of design witli 
 poetical composition. I drew the portraits of my friends in 
 profile on grey paper, in white and black chalk. WTienever I 
 dictated or listened to reading, I sketched the positions of the 
 \vriter and reader, with the surrounding objects; the resem- 
 blance could not be denied, and the drawings were well re- 
 ceived. Dilettanti always have this advantage because the}' 
 give their labor for nothing. But feeling the insufficiency of 
 this copying, I betook myself once more to language and 
 rhythm which were much more at my command. How 
 briskly, how joyously and eagerly I went to work with them 
 ■will appear from the many poems which, enthusiastically pro- 
 claiming the art of nature, and the nature of art, infused, at 
 the moment of their production, new spirit into me as well 
 as into my friends. 
 
 At this epoch, and in the midst of these occupations, I was 
 sitting one evening with a struggling light in my chamber, to 
 which at least the air of an artist's studio was thus imparted, 
 while the walls, stuck over and covered with half-finished 
 works, gave the impression of great industry, when there 
 entered a well-formed, slender man, whom, at first, in the 
 twilight, I took for Fritz Jacobi, but soon, discovering my 
 mistake, greeted as a stranger. In his free and agreeable 
 bearing a certain military air was perceptible. He announced 
 himself by the name of Von Knebel, and from tf brief intro- 
 duction I gathered that he was in the Prussian service, and 
 that during a long residence at Berlin and Potsdam he had 
 actively cultivated an acquaintance with the literary men of 
 those places, and with German literature in general. He had 
 attached himself particularly to Ramler, and had adopted his 
 mode of reciting poems. He was also fomiliar with all that 
 Gotz had written, who, at that time, had not as yet made a 
 name among the Germans. Through his exertions the Mad- 
 cheninsel (Isle of Maidens) of this poet had been pi'inted at 
 Potsdam, and had fallen into the hands of the king, who was 
 said to have expressed a favorable opinion of it. 
 
 We had scarcely talked over these subjects of general in- 
 terest in German literature, before I learned, much to my
 
 STATE OF WEIMAS, 41 
 
 satisfaction, that he was at present stationed in Weimar, and 
 was appointed the companion of Prince Constantin. Of mat- 
 ters there I had akeady heard much that was favorable ; for 
 several strangers, who had come from Weimar, assured us 
 that the Duchess Amaha had gathered round her the best 
 men to assist in the education of the princes her sons ; that 
 the Academy of Jena, through its admirable teachers, had also 
 contributed its part to this excellent purpose ; and that the 
 arts were not only protected by this princess, but were prac- 
 tised by her with great diligence and zeal. We also heard 
 that Wieland was in especial favor. The Deutsche Merhir, 
 too, which xmited the labors of so many scholars in other 
 places, contributed not a little to the fame of the city in which 
 it was published. There also was one of the best theatres 
 in Germany, which was made famous by its actors, as well as 
 by the authors who wrote for it. These noble institutions and 
 plans seemed, however, to have received a sudden check, and 
 to be threatened with a long interruption, in consequence of 
 the teiTible conflagration of the castle, which took place in the 
 May of that year. But the confidence in the hereditary prince 
 was so great that eveiy one was convinced not only that the 
 damage would be repaired, but that in spite of it every other 
 hope would be fuUy accomplished. As I inquii-ed after these 
 persons and things, as if I were an old acquaintance, and 
 expressed a wish to become more intimately acquainted with 
 them, my visitor replied, in the most friendly manner possible, 
 that nothing was easier, since the hereditary prince, with his 
 brother, the Prince Constantin, had just arrived in Franldbrt, 
 and desired to see and know me. I at once expressed the 
 greatest Avillingness to wait upon them, and my new friend 
 told me that I must not delay, as their stiiy would not be 
 long. In order to equip myself for the visit, I took Von 
 linebel to my father and mother, who were surprised at his 
 arrival, and the message he bore, and conversed with him 
 with great satisfaction. I then proceeded vfii]x him to the 
 young princes, who received me in a very easy and friendly 
 manner ; Count Gortz, also, the tutor of the hereditary prince, 
 appeared not displeased to see me. Though there was no 
 lack of literary subjects for our conversation, accident fur- 
 nished the best possible introduction to it, and rendered it at 
 once important and profitable.
 
 42 TKUTH AND POEXKY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Mdser's Patriotische Fantasien (patriotic Ftontasies), tliat 
 is to say, the fii-st part of them, were lying on the table, fresh 
 from the binder, with the leaves imcut. As I was familiar 
 with them, while the rest were scarcely acquainted with 
 them, I had the advantage of beiag able to give a complete 
 accoimt of the work, and had here a favorable opportunity for 
 spealcing with a yoimg prince who was siacerely desirous, and 
 also firmly detennined to make use of his station to do aU the 
 good in his power. Moser's book, both in its contents and its 
 tone, could not but be highly interesting to every German. 
 "While by other writers division, anarchy, and impotence, had 
 been brought as a reproach against the German empire, ac- 
 cording to Moser this very number of smaU states was highly 
 desii'able, as affording room for the special cultivation of each, 
 according to its necessities, which must vary -with the site and 
 peculiarities of such -widely different provinces. In the same 
 way, I remarked, that Moser, starting with the city and 
 bishopric {Stifi) of Osnaburg, and thence going over the circle 
 of Westphalia, set forth its relation to the whole empire, and 
 just as he, in the farther examination of the subject, unit- 
 ing the past with the present, deduced the latter from the 
 former, and thus clearly shewed Avhat alterations were desir- 
 able or not; so might every ruler, by proceeding in the same 
 way, obtain a thorough knowledge of the constitution of the 
 state he governs, its connexion wiih. its neighbors and with 
 the whole empire, and thus enable himself to judge both the 
 present and the future. 
 
 In the course of our conversation, many remarks were 
 made with regard to the difference between the States of 
 Upper and Lower Saxony; not only theirnatural productions, 
 it was observed, but also their manners, laws, and customs 
 had differed from the earliest times, and, according to the 
 form of religion and government, had variously modified 
 themselves. We endeavoured to obtain a clear view of the 
 differences between the two regions, and in this attempt it 
 soon appeared how useful it v>'ould be to have a good model, 
 which, if regarded, not in its individual peculiarities, but in 
 the general method on which it had been based, might be ap- 
 plied to the most widely differing cases, and thereby might 
 be liighly serviceable in helping us to fonn a correct judg- 
 ment.
 
 PBOSPECTS OF A COUKT-LIFJE. 4S 
 
 This conversation, which was kept up when we were set 
 down at table, made a better impression in my favor than I 
 perhaps deserved. For instead of making such works as be- 
 longed to my own sphere of literatiu-e the subjects of dis- 
 cussion ; instead of demanding an undivided attention for the 
 drama and for romance, I appeared while discussing Moser's 
 book, to prefer those writers whose talents, proceeding from 
 active life, retiuned to it with immediate benefit, whereas 
 works properly poetical, as soariiig above mere social and 
 material interests, coidd only be indu-ectly and accidentally 
 profitable. These discussions went on like the stories of the 
 Arabian Nights; one important matter came up after another; 
 many themes were only touched upon without om- being able 
 to follow them out, and accordingly, as the stay of the young 
 princes in Frankfort was necessarily short, they made me pro- 
 mise to follow them to Mayence and spend a few days with 
 them there. I gave this promise gladly enough, and hastened 
 home to impart the agreeable intelligence to my parents. 
 
 My father, however, could not by any means be brought to 
 approve of it. In accordance with his sentiments as a citizen 
 of the empire, he had always kept aloof from the great, and 
 although constantly coming in contact with the charges 
 (Vaffaires of the neighboring princes, he had nevertheless 
 avoided all personal relations -svith them. In fact, courts 
 were among the things about which he was accustomed to 
 joke. He was not indeed displeased if any one opposed his 
 opinions on this head; only he was not satisfied unless his 
 opponent mamtaitied liis side with wit and spirit. If we 
 allowed his '^ Procul a Jove procul a fulmine" to pass, but 
 added that with lightning the question was not so much 
 whence it came as whither it Avent; he would bring up the 
 old proverb, " With great lords it is not good to eat cherries." 
 'When to this we replied that it was yet worse to eat with 
 dainty people out of one basket, he would not deny the truth 
 of this; only he was sure to have another proverb ready 
 at hand which was to put us to confusion. For since pro- 
 verbs and rhyming apophthegms proceed from the people, 
 Avho, while they ai'e forced to obey, like at least to speak 
 their vengeance, just as their superiors, on the other hand, 
 indemnify themselves by deeds ; and since the poetry of the 
 sixteenth ccntiuy is almost wholly of a nervous didactic cha-
 
 44 TKTTXH AXB POETKT; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 racter, there is in oui- language no lack of jests and serious 
 adages, directed from below upwards. We juniors, however, 
 now began to aim from above downwards, fancying ourselves 
 something great as we tooli up the cause of the great. Of 
 these sayings and coiuiter-sayings I will here insert a few. 
 
 A. 
 
 Long at court is long in hell, 
 
 E. 
 There many good folks warm them well. 
 
 A. 
 Such as I am, I'm still mine own, 
 To me shall favors ne'er be shown. 
 
 B. 
 
 Blush not a favor to receive, 
 
 For you must take, if you would give. 
 
 A. 
 
 This trouble at the court vou catch. 
 
 That where you itch, you must not scratch. 
 
 B. 
 
 The sage, that woidd the people teach. 
 Must scratch a place that does not itch. 
 
 A. 
 
 Those who a slavish office choose. 
 One half of life arc sure to lose, 
 And come what will they may be sure. 
 Old Nick the other will secure. 
 
 B. 
 
 "Wtoe'er with princes is at home, 
 WiU some day find good fortune come; 
 \Vlio courts the rabble, — to his cost 
 Will find that all his year is lost. 
 
 A. 
 
 Though wheat at court seems flourishing. 
 Doubt that great harvest it wiU bring, 
 When to your barn you deem it brought. 
 You'll find that after all 'tis nought.
 
 PKOSPECTS OF A COUKT-LIFi:. 45 
 
 B. 
 The wheat that blooms -will ripen too. 
 For so of old it used to do : 
 And if a crop is spoil'd by hail. 
 The next year's harvest will not fail. 
 
 A. 
 
 He who -would serve himself alone, 
 Shqvild have a cottage of his o-wn. 
 
 Dwell with his children and his wife, 
 Regale himself with light new wine, 
 And on the cheapest viands dine ; 
 
 Then nothing can disturb his life. 
 
 B. 
 
 So, from a master you'ld be free? — 
 Whither think' st thou then to fleer 
 Dream not yom- freedom you will get. 
 You have a wife to ride you yet. 
 She by her stupid boy is ruled. 
 Thus in j-our cot you still are schooled. 
 
 As I was lately looking up these rhymes in some old me- 
 morandum books, I fell in with many such jeux cFesjn-il, in 
 which we had amplified pithy old German saws, in order to 
 set them oif against other proverbs which are equally veri- 
 fied by experience. A selection from them may perhaps here- 
 after, as an epilogue to the '-Puppenspiele"' (puppet shows), 
 suggest some pleasant reflections. 
 
 But all these rejoinders could not move my father from his 
 opinions. He was in the habit of saving his most stringent 
 argument for the close of the discussion. This consisted of a 
 minute description of Voltaire's adventure with Frederick 
 the Second. lie told us how the unboimded favor, familiarity, 
 mutual obligations, were at once revoked and forgotten; how 
 he had lived to see the comedj' out in the arrest of that ex- 
 traordinary poet and -vATiter by the Frankfort civic guard, on 
 the complaint of the llesident Frcj'tag, and the warrant of the 
 Bmgomaster Fiehard, and his confinement for some time in 
 the tavern of the Rose, on the Zeil. To this we might have 
 answered in many ways, — among others, that Yoltaii-c was n'oti*^^^^ 
 free from blame himself, — but fr-om fiUal respect we always
 
 46 TRUTH AND POETKT; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 yielded the point. On the present occasion, when these 
 things and others like them were alluded to, I hardly knew 
 how to demean myself, for he warned me explicitly, main- 
 taining that the invitation was given only to entice me into a 
 ti-ap, in order to take vengeance on me for my mischievous 
 treatment of the favored Wieland. FuUy as I was convinced 
 of the contrary, yet as I saw but too plainly that a precon- 
 ceived opinion,"^ excited by hypochondriac fancies, afflicted my 
 worthy father, I was unwilling to act in direct opposition to 
 his convictions. StiU I could not find any excuse for failing 
 to keep my promise without appearing ungrateful and uncour- 
 teous. Unfortunately our friend Fraulein Von Klettenberg, 
 to whose ad\dce we usually resorted in such cases, was 
 confined to her bed. In her and my mother I had two 
 incomparable companions. I called them Word and Deed ; 
 for when the former cast her serene or rather blissfid glance 
 over earthly things, what was confusion to us children of 
 earth, at once grew plain before her, and she could almost 
 always point out the right way, because she looked upon the 
 labyrinth from above, and was not herself entangled in it. 
 When a decision was once made, the readiness and energy of 
 my mother could be relied on. While the former had Sight 
 for her aid the latter had Faith, and as she maintained her 
 serenity in all cases, she was never without the means of 
 accomplishing what was proposed or desired. Accordingly 
 she was now despatched to our sick friend to obtain her 
 opinion, and when this turned out in my fiivour, she was en- 
 treated to gain the consent of ray father, who yielded, against 
 Ms belief and will. 
 
 It was in a \ery cold season of the year that I arrived at 
 the appointed hour in Mayence. My reception by the yoimg 
 princes and by their attendants, was no less friendly than the 
 invitation. The conversation in Frankfort was recalled and 
 resumed at the point where it had been broken ofi*. When it 
 touched upon the recent German literatm-c and its audacities^ 
 it was perfectly natiiral that my famous piece, " Goiter, 
 Helden, tind Wieland" (Gods, Heroes, and Wieland) should 
 come up, at which I remarked with satisfiiction that the thing 
 was regarded with good humor. Being calJed on to give the 
 real history of this^ew d' esprit, which had excited so great at- 
 tention, I could not avoid confessing, first of all, that as true
 
 " GODS, HEKOES, A.ND WIELAND." 47 
 
 fellows of the Upper Rhine, we had no bounds either to our 
 liking or disliking. With us, reverence for Shakspeare was 
 carried to adoration. But Wieland, with his decided pecu- 
 liarity of destroying the interest, both of himself and of his 
 readers, had, in the notes to his translation, found much fault 
 with the great author, and that in such a way as to vex us 
 exceedingly, and to diminish in our eyes, the value of the 
 work. We saw that Wieland, whom wc had so highly re- 
 vered as a poet, and who, as a translator, had rendered such 
 great service, was, as a critic, capricious, one-sided, and 
 unjust. Besides this, he had deliberately spoken against our 
 idols, the Greeks, and this sharpened our hostility yet more. 
 It is well kno^ATi that the Greek gods and heroes are eminent 
 not for moral but for glorified physical qualities, for which 
 reason they afibrd such splendid subjects to artists. Now 
 Wieland, in his Alceste, had presented heroes and demi-gods 
 after the modern fiishion. Against this we had nothing to 
 say, as eveiy one is at liberty to motdd poetic traditions to 
 his own ends and way of thinking. But in the letters on this 
 opera, which he inserted in the Merkur, he appeared to us 
 unduly to exalt this mode of treating them ; in short, to show 
 too much of the partisan, and to commit an unpardonable sin 
 against the good ancients and their high-er style, by his ab- 
 solute unwillingness to recognise the strong, healthy nature 
 which is the basis of their productions. I told them we had 
 hardly discussed these grievances with some vehemence in our 
 little society, when my ordinary rage for di-amatizing every- 
 thing came upon me one Sunday afternoon, and so at one 
 sitting, over a bottle of good Burgundy, I wrote off the whole 
 piece, just as it stands. It Avas no sooner read to those of my 
 colleagues as were present, and received by them with excla- 
 mations of delight, than I sent the manuscript to Lenz at 
 Strasburg, who appeared enraptm-ed with it, and maintained 
 that it must be printed \vithout delay. .After some corres- 
 pondence, I at last consented, and he put it hastily to press at 
 Strasbiu-g. Some time afterwards, I learned that this was one 
 of the first steps which Lenz took in his design to injtire me, 
 and to bring me into disgi'ace with the public ; but at that 
 time I neither knew nor surmised anything of the kind. 
 
 In this way I narrated to my new patrons, with perfect 
 candour, the innocent origin of the piece, as well as I knew
 
 48 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 it myself, iu order to com^nce tliem that it contained no per- 
 sonality, nor any ulterior motive. I also took care to let 
 them imderstand with what gaiety and recklessness Ave were 
 accustomed to banter and ridicule each other among ourselves. 
 Witli this, I saw that they were quite content. They almost 
 admired the great fear we had lest any one of ourselves should 
 go to sleep upon his laiu-els. They compared such a society 
 to those Buccaneers who, in every moment of repose, are 
 afraid of becoming effeminate, and whose leaders, wdien there 
 are no enemies in sight, and there is no one to plunder, will let 
 off a pistol under the mess-table, in order that even in peace 
 there may be no w^ant of wounds and horrors. After consi- 
 derable discussion j)ro and con upon this subject, I was at last 
 induced to wiitc Wieland a friendly letter. I gladly availed 
 myself of the opportunity, as, in the Merhtr, he had spoken 
 most liberally of this piece of 5'outhful folly, and as, in 
 literary feuds, was almost always his custom, had ended the 
 affair in the most skilful manner. 
 
 The few days of my stay at Mayence passed off very plea- 
 santly ; for Avhen my new patrons were abroad on visits and 
 banquets, I remained with their attendants, di'ew the por- 
 traits of several, or went skating, for which the frozen ditches 
 of the fortification afforded excellent opportunity. I retiu-ned 
 home full of the kindness I had met with, and, as I entered 
 the house, was on the point of emptying my heart by a minute 
 account of it ; but I saw only troubled faces, and the convic- 
 tion was soon forced upon me that our friend Fraulein von 
 IQettenberg was no more. At this I w^as greatly concerned, 
 because, in my present situation I needed her more than ever. 
 They told me for my consolation, that a pious death had 
 crowned her happy life, and that the cheerfulness of her faith 
 had remained undistm-bed to the end. But there was also 
 another obstacle in the way of a free communication on the 
 subject of my A-isit ?.Iy father, instead of rejoicing at the for- 
 tunate issue of this little adventure, persisted in his opinion, 
 and maintained, on the other hand, that it was nothing but dis- 
 simulation, and that perhaps there was a danger of their ear- 
 ring out in the end something still worse against me. I was 
 thus^driven to my younger fiiends with my nai-rative, and to 
 them I could not tell it circimistantially enough. But, their 
 attachment and good will, led to a result which to me was
 
 THE PliOMETHEUS A^'D HIS EEVIEWERS. 40 
 
 most unpleasant. Shortly r.fterwards, appeared a pam- 
 phlet, called "Prometheus and his Reviewers," also in a di-a- 
 matic fonn. In this the comical notion was carried out, of 
 putting little wood-cut figures before the dialogue, instead of 
 proper names, and representing by all sorts of satii'ical images 
 those critics who had expressed an opinion upon my works, 
 or on works akin to them. In one place the Altona 
 com-ier, without his head, was blomng his horn, here a 
 bear was growling, and there a goose was cackling. The 
 Merkur, too, was not forgotten, and many wUd and 
 tame animals were represented in the atelier of the sculp- 
 tor endeavoring to put him out, Avhile he, without taking 
 particular notice of them, kept zealously at his work, and did 
 not refrain from expressing his opinion about the matter in 
 general. The appearance of this jeu d' esprit surprised me 
 much, and was as unexpected as it was disagreeable. Its style 
 and tone evidently showed that it was by one of our society, 
 and indeed I feared it might be attribvited to me. But what 
 was most annoying, was the circumstance that "Prometheus" 
 brought out some allusions to my stiiy at Mayence and to 
 what was said there, which nobody but myself could have 
 known. To me this was a proof that the author Avas oue of 
 those who formed my most intimate circle of friends, where 
 he must have heard me relate these events in detail. Ac- 
 cordingly we all looked at each other, and each suspected the 
 rest, but the unknown writer managed very weU to keep his 
 OMm secret. I uttered vehement reproaches against him, 
 because it was exceedingly vexatious to me, after so gracious 
 a reception and so important a conversation, and after the 
 confiding letter I had written to Wieland, to see here an 
 occasion for fresh disti"ust and disagreement. However my 
 imcertainty on this point was not of long duration. As I 
 walked up and do^^-n my room reading the book aloud, I heard 
 clearly in the fancies and the turns of expression the voice of 
 Wagner — and it was he. When I had rushed doNvn stairs to 
 impart my discovery to my mother, she confessed to me, that 
 she already knew it. Annoyed at the ill results of Avhat had 
 seemed to him a good and praiseworthy plan, the author had 
 discovered himself to her, and besought her intercession with 
 ine, not to fiilfil in his person my threat of holding no fm-ther 
 intercourse with the Aviiter who had so abused my confidence. 
 Vol. it. e
 
 50 TRrxH AXD poetky: fpwOM my own xibje. 
 
 The fact that I had foimd him out myself was very much in 
 his favom-, and the satisfaction always attending a discovery 
 of one's own, incHned me to be mercifid. The fault which 
 had given occasion for such a proof of my sagacity, was for- 
 given. Nevertheless, it was not easy to con-since the public 
 that Wagner was the author, and that I had had no hand 
 in the game. No one believed that he possessed such versa- 
 tility of talent ; and no one reflected, that it was very easy 
 for him, though possessing: no remarkable talents of his own, 
 to notice, seize upon, and bring out in his own way all that 
 for some time had passed either in jest and earnest in an 
 intellectual society. And thus on this occasion as on many 
 others afterwards, I had to suffer not only for my oyvn foUies, 
 but also for the indiscretion and precipitancy of my friends. 
 
 As the remembrance of them is here suggested by many 
 circumstances, I will speak of some distinguished men who, 
 at different times, on their passage through Frankfort, either 
 lodged at our house or partook of our friendly hospitality. 
 Once more Klopstock stands justly at the head. I had already 
 exchanged several letters with him, when he announced to 
 me that he was invited to go to Carlsrulie and to reside there ; 
 that he would be in Friedberg by a specified day, and wished 
 that I would come there and fetch him. I did not fail to be 
 there at the hour. He, however, had been accidcntly detained 
 upon the road ; and after I had waited in vain for some days, 
 I went home, where he did not arrive till after some time, and 
 then excused his delay, and received very kindly my readiness 
 to come to meet liim. His person was small but well-built; his 
 manners without being stiff, were serious and precise ; his con- 
 versation was measiu-ed and agieeable. On the whole there 
 was something of the diplomatist in his bearing. Such a 
 man undertakes the difficult task of supporting, at the same 
 time, his own dignit}% and that of a supei-ior to whom he is 
 responsible ; of advancing his o^vn interest, together with the 
 much more important interest of a prince, or even of a whole 
 State ; and of making himself, beyond all things, pleasing to 
 other men while in this critical position. In this way Klop- 
 stock appeared to bear himself as a man of worth and as the 
 representative of other things — of rehgion, of morality and 
 freedom. He had also assumed another pecidiarity of men 
 of the -world — namely, not readily to speak on subjects upon
 
 ZIMMEEMANN. 51 
 
 which he was particularly expected and desired to discoui'se. 
 He was seldom heard to mention poetic and literaiy subjects. 
 But as he found in me and my friends a set of passionate 
 skaters, he discoursed to us at length on this noble art, on 
 which he had thought much, having considered what in it 
 was to be sought, and what avoided. Still, before we could 
 receive the instruction he proffered, we had to submit to be 
 put right as to the word itself, in which we blundered.* We 
 spioke in good Upper-Saxon of Schlittschuhen, which he would 
 not allow to pass at all; for the word, he said, does not come 
 from Schlitten (sledge), as if one went on little rimners, but 
 from Schreiten (to stride), because like the Homeric gods the 
 vskater strides away on these winged shoes over the sea frozen 
 into a plain. Next we came to the instrument itself. He 
 Avould have nothing to do with the high grooved skates, but 
 recommended the low, broad, smooth-bottomed Friseland 
 steel skates as the most serviceable for speed. He was no 
 friend to the tricks of art which are usually performed in this 
 exercise. I procured, according to his advice, a pair of 
 smooth skates, with long toes, and used them for several 
 years, though with some discomfort. He understood, too, 
 the science of horsemanship and horsc-brealdng, and Hked to 
 tallv about it ; thus, as if by design, he avoided all conversation 
 upon his own profession, that he might speak with greater 
 'freedom about arts quite foreign to it, which he pursued only 
 as a pastime. I might say much more of these and other 
 peculiarities of this extraordinary man, if those who lived 
 longer with him had not already informed us fully about 
 them. One observation, however, I will not suppress, which 
 is, that men whom Nature, after endowing them with imcom- 
 mon advantages, has placed in a narrow circle of action, or 
 at least in one dispro])ortioned to their powers, generally fall 
 into eccentricities; and as they have no opportunity of 
 making direct use of their gifts, seek to employ them in an 
 extraordinary or whimsical manner. 
 
 Zimmcrmann was also for a time our guest. He was tall 
 and powerfully built; of a vehement nature open to every 
 
 * There are two words used for " skate." One of them Schlittschuh, 
 means "sledge-shoe; the other Schrittsehuch, means "stride-shoe." 
 Gothe and his friends make use of the former ; Klopstock contends for 
 the latter. 
 
 £ 2
 
 52 TRUTH AND rOETUY; FROM; MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 impulse ; yet he had his outward hearing and manners per- 
 fectly under control, so that in society he appeared as a 
 skilful physician and polished man of the world. It was 
 only in his writings and amongst his most confidential friends, 
 that he gave free comse to his untamed inward chai'acter. 
 His conversation Avas varied and liighly instructive, and for 
 one who could pardon his keen sensitiveness to whatever 
 grated on his own personal feelings and merits, no more 
 desirable companion could be found. For myself, as wftat 
 is called vanity never disturbed me, and I in retm-n often 
 presumed to be vain also — that is, did not hesitate to enlarge 
 upon whatever in myself pleased me, I got on with him capi- 
 tally. We mutually tolerated and scolded each other, and, 
 as he showed himself thoroughly open and communicative, I 
 learned from him a great deal in a short time. 
 
 To judge such a man with the indulgence of gratitude, nay 
 on principle, I cannot say that he was vain. We Germans 
 misuse the word " vain" (citel), but too often. In a strict 
 sense, it carries with it the idea of emptiness, and we pro- 
 perly designate by it only the man who caimot conceal his 
 joy at his Nothing, his contentment with a hollow phantom. 
 With Zimmermann it was exactly the reverse ; he had great 
 deserts, and no inward satisfaction. The man who cannot 
 enjoy his own natural gifts in silence, and find liis reward in 
 the exercise of them, but must wait and hope for their 
 recognition and appreciation by others, will generally find 
 himself but badly otf, because it is but too well known a fact 
 that men are very niggard of their applause; that they rather 
 love to mingle alloy with praise, and where it can in any 
 degree be done, to turn it into blame. WTioever comes 
 before the public without being prepared for this, will meet 
 Avith nothing but vexation ; since, even if he docs not over- 
 estimate his own production, it still has for him an milimited 
 value, while the reception it meets with in the world, is 
 in every case qualified. Besides, a certain susceptibility is 
 necessary for praise and applause, as for every other pleasure. 
 Let this be applied to Zimmermann, and it will be acknow- 
 ledged in his case too ; that no one can obtain what he docs 
 not bring with him. 
 
 If this apology cannot be allowed, still less shall we be able 
 to justify another fault of this remarkable man, because it
 
 ZIMMEKMANJT. 53 
 
 disturbed and even destroyed the happiness of others. I 
 mean his conduct towards his children. His daushter, who 
 travelled with him, stayed with us while he visited the neigh- 
 bouring scenes. She might be about sixteen years old, 
 slender and well formed, but without elegance ; her regular 
 features would have been agreeable, if there had appeared in 
 them a trace of animation, but she was always as quiet as a 
 statue ; she spoke seldom, and in the jiresence of her father 
 never. But she had scarcely spent a few days alone with my 
 mother, receiving the cheerful and affectionate attentions of 
 this sympathizing woman, than she threw herself at her feet 
 with an opened heart, and with a thousand tears, begged 
 to be allowed to remain with her. With the most passionate 
 language she declared that she would remain in the house 
 as a servant, as a slave all her life, rather than go back with 
 her father, of whose severity and tyranny no one could form 
 an idea. Her brother had gone mad under his treatment; 
 she had hitherto borne it though with difficulty, because sh« 
 had believed that it was the same, or not much better, in 
 e-\ery family, but now that she had experienced such a loving, 
 mild and considerate treatnient, her situation at home had 
 become to her a perfect hell. My mother was greatly moved 
 as she related to me this passionate effusion, and incleed, she 
 went so far in her sympathy, as to give me pretty clearly to 
 tmderstand, that she would be content to keep the girl in the 
 house, if I would make up my mind to marry her. If she 
 were an orphan, I replied, I might think and talk it over, 
 but God keep me from a father-in-law who is such a father ! 
 My mother took great pains with the poor girl, but this 
 made her only the more unhappy. At last an expedient 
 was found, by putting her to a boarding-school. Her life, 
 I should observe in passing, was not a very long one. 
 
 I shoiild hardly mention this culpable peculiarity of a man 
 of such great deserts, if it had not abeady become a matter 
 of public notoriety, and especially had not the unfortunate 
 hypochondria, with which, in his last hours, he tortiu-ed 
 himself and others, been commonly talked of. Foi* that 
 severity towards his children was nothing less than h\-po- 
 chondria, a partial insanity, a continuous moral murder, 
 which, after making his cliildren its victims, was at last 
 directed against himself. We must also remember that
 
 54 XEUTH AND poetey; from mv own life. 
 
 though appprently in such good health, he was a great 
 sufferer even in his best years; — that an incurable disease 
 troubled the skilful physician who had relieved, and stUl 
 gave ease to so many of the afflicted. Yes, this distinguished 
 man, with aU his outward reputation, fame, honour, rank, 
 and wealth, led the saddest life, and whoever will take the 
 pains to learn more about it from existing publications, will 
 not condemn but pity him. 
 
 If it is now expected that I shall give a more precise ac- 
 count of the effect which this distinguished man had upon 
 me, I must once more recall the general features of that 
 period. The epoch in which we were living might be called 
 an epoch of high requisitions, for every one demanded of 
 himself and of others what no mortal had hitherto accom- 
 plished. On chosen spirits who could think and feel, a light 
 had arisen, which enabled them to see that aa Immediate, 
 original understanding of natm-e, and a course of action based 
 upon it, was both the best thing a man coidd desire, and 
 also not difficult to attain. Experience thus once more 
 became the imiversal watchword, and every one opened his 
 eyes as wide as he could. Physicians, especially, had a most 
 pressing call to labom- to this end, and the best opportimity 
 for finding it. Upon them a star shone out of antiquity, 
 which could serve as an example of all that was to be desired. 
 The writings which had come down to us under the name of 
 Hippocrates, furnished a model of the way in which a man 
 should both observe the world and relate what he had seen, 
 without mixing up himself with it. But no one considered 
 that we cannot see like the Greeks, and that we shall never 
 become such poets, sculptors, and physicians as they were. 
 Even granted that we could learn from them, still the results 
 of experience already gone through, were almost beyond 
 number, and besides were not always of the clearest land; 
 moreover had too often been made to accord with precon- 
 ceived opinions. All these were to be mastered, discrimi- 
 nated, and sifted. This also, was an immense demand. 
 Then again it was required that each observer, in his per- 
 sonal sphere and labours, should acquaint himself with the 
 true, healthy nature, as if she were now for the first time 
 noticed, and attended, and thus only what was genuine and 
 real was to be learned. But as, in general,, learning can
 
 ZIMMERMANN". 55 
 
 never exist without the accompaniment of a nniversal smat- 
 tering and a imiversal pedantry, nor the practice of any 
 profession without empiricism and charlatanry, so there 
 sprung up a violent conflict, the purpose of which was to 
 guard use from abuse, and place the kernel high above the 
 shell in men's estimation. In the execution of this design, 
 it was perceived that the shortest way of getting out of the 
 aflfeir, was to call in the aid of genius, whose magic gifts 
 could settle the strife, and accomplish what was requii-ed. 
 Meanwhile, however, the understanding meddled Avith the 
 matter; all it alleged must be reduced to clear notions, and 
 exhibited in a logical form, that every prejudice might be 
 put aside, and all superstition destroyed. And since the 
 achievements of some extraordinary men, such as Boerhaave 
 and Haller, were actually incredible, people thought them- 
 selves justified in demanding even still more from their pupils 
 and successors. It was maintained that the ])ath was opened, 
 forgetting that in earthly things a path can very rarely be 
 spoken of; for, as the water that is dislodged by a ship, 
 instantly flows in again behind it, so by the law of its natm-e, 
 "when eminent spirits have once driven error aside, and made 
 a place for themselves, it very quickly closes upon them again. 
 
 But of this the ardent Zimmermann could form no idea what- 
 ever : he would not admit that absiu'dity did in fact fill up the 
 world. Impatient, even to madness, he rushed to attack every- 
 thing that he saw and believed to be wrong. It was all the 
 same to him whether he was fighting with a nui-se or with 
 Paracelsus, with a quack, or a chemist. His blows fell ahke 
 heavily in cither case, and when he had worked himself out 
 of breath, he was gi-eatly astonished to see the heads of this 
 hydra, which he thought ho had trodden under foot, springing 
 up all fresh again, and showmg him their teeth fiom innumer- 
 able jaws. 
 
 Every one who reads his Amtings, especially his clever 
 work "On Experience," will perceive more distinctly than I 
 can express them, the subjects of discussion between this excel- 
 lent man and myself. His influence over me, was the more 
 powerful, as he was twenty years my senior. Having a high 
 reputation as a physician, he was cliiefly employed among the 
 upper classes, and the corruption of the times, caused by effe- 
 minacy and excess, was a constant theme of conversation with
 
 56 XKUTii AMD poetky; fkom my own life 
 
 him. Thus his medical discourses, like those of the philoso- 
 jDhers and my poetical friends, drove me again back to natme. 
 In his vehement passion for improvement I coidd not fiillr 
 participate; on the contrary, after we separated, I instantly 
 drew back into my own proper calling, and endeavoured to 
 employ the gifts nature had bestowed upon me, with moderate 
 exertion, and by good-natured opposition to what I disap- 
 proved of, to gain a standing for myself, in perfect indifference 
 how far my influence might reach or whither it might lead me. 
 
 Von Salis, who was setting up the large boarding school 
 at jNIarschlins, visited us also at that time. He was an ear- 
 nest and intelligent man, and must have quietly made many 
 humorous observations on the irregular though genial mode 
 of life in our little society. The same -sv'as probably the case 
 with Sulzer, who came in contact with us on his journey to 
 the south of I'rance ; at least a passage in his travels where he 
 speaks of me, seems to favor this opinion. 
 
 These visits, Avhich v/cre as agreeable as they were profit- 
 able, were however diversified by others which wh would 
 rather have been spared. Needy and shameless adventurers 
 fixed themselves on the confiding youth, supporting their 
 tu-gent demands by real as well as fictitious relationships and 
 misfortvmes. They borrowed my money, and made it ]ieces- 
 sary for me to borrow in turn, so that I in consequence fell 
 into the most unpleasant position Avith opident and kind- 
 hearted friends. If I A^dshed that all these rmfortunate folks 
 were food for tlie crows, my father fomid himself in the situa- 
 tion of the magicicm's apprentice* who was willing enough 
 to see his house washed clean, but is frightened when the 
 flood rushes in without ceasing, over threshold and stairs. By 
 an excessive kindness, the quiet and modei-ate plan of life 
 which my father had designed for mo was step by step inter- 
 rupted and put off, and from day to day changed contrary to 
 aU expectation. All idea of a long visit to Ratisborn and 
 Vienna Avas as good as given up ; but still I was to pass 
 thi'ougli those cities on my way to It<dy, so as at least to gain 
 a general notion of them. On the other hand, some of my 
 friends, who did not approve of taking so long a circuit, in 
 order to get into acti^'e life, recommended that I should take 
 advantage of a moment which seemed in every way faAorable, 
 * The allusion is to Gothe's own poem "Der Zauhcdehrling.
 
 PLAXS FOK SETTXING IN LIFE. 57 
 
 and think on a pei-manent establishment in my native city. 
 Although the Council were closed against me, first by my 
 graudfather and then by my uncle, there were yet many ci^il 
 offices to which I could lay claim, Avhcre I could remain for a 
 time and await the future. There were agencies of several 
 kinds which offered employment enough, and the place of 
 a charge d'affaires Avas highly respectable. I suffered myself 
 to be persxiadcd, and believed also, that I might adapt myself 
 to this plan, without having tried whether I was suited for 
 such a mode of life and business as requires that amid dis- 
 .-sipatiou, we should most of all act for a certain end. To 
 these plans and designs there was now added a tender senti- 
 ment which seemed to draw me towards a domestic life and 
 to accelerate my determination. 
 
 The society of young men and women already mentioned, 
 A\hich was kept together by, if it did not owe its origin, to, my 
 sister, still sm'vived after her marriage and departure, because 
 the members had grown accustomed to each other, and coidd 
 not spend one evening in the week better than in this friendly 
 4,irclc. The eccentric orator also v.hose acquaintance we made 
 in the sixth book, had, after many adventures, returned to us, 
 more clever and more perverse than ever, and once again 
 ])layed the legislator of the little state. As a sequel to oiu- 
 former diversions he had devised something of the same kind; 
 he enacted that every week lots shoidd be draAvn, not as 
 before to decide what pairs should be lovers, but man'ied 
 couples. How lovers shoidd conduct themselves towards each 
 other, he said, we knew well enough; but of the proper deport- 
 ment of husbands and wives in society we were totally igno- 
 rant, and this, with our increasing years, we ought to Icam 
 before all tilings. He laid down general rules, which, of course, 
 set forth that we must act as if Ave did not belong to each 
 other; that we must not sit or speak often together, much. 
 less indulge in anythmg like caresses. And at the same time 
 we were not only to aAoid everything which Avould occasion 
 mutual suspicion and discord, but, on the contrary, he was to 
 win the greatest praises, who, with liis free and open manners 
 should 3'^et most endear to himself his wife. 
 
 The lots were at once di-aA\m ; some odd matclies that they 
 decided were laughed at and joked about, and the universal 
 marriage-comedy was begim in good humour and renewed 
 every week.
 
 58 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Now it fell out strangely enough, that from the first the 
 same lady fell twice to me. She was a veiy good creature, 
 just such a woman as one would like to think of as a wife. 
 Her figure was beautiful and well-proportioned, her face pleas- 
 ing, while in her manners there pitevailed a repose which 
 testified to the health of her mind and body. Every day and 
 hour she was perfectly the same. Her domestic industry 
 was in high repute. Though she was not talkative, a just 
 understanding and natural talents could be recognised in her 
 language. To meet the advances of such a person with 
 friendliness and esteem was natiiral; on a general principle 
 I was already accustomed to do it, and now I acted from a 
 sort of traditional kindness as a social duty. But when the 
 lot brought us together for the third time, our jocose law- 
 giver declared in the most solemn manner that Heaven had 
 spoken, and we could not again be separated. We submitted 
 to his sentence, and both of us adapted om-selves so well to 
 our public conjugal duties, that we might really have sers'ed 
 as a model. Since all the pairs who were severally united 
 for the evening, were obhged by the general rules to address 
 each other for the few hours with JDu (thou), we had, after 
 a series of weeks, gi-own so accustomed to this confidential 
 pronoun, that even in the intervals whenever we accidentally 
 came together, the Du would kindly come out.* Habit is 
 a strange thing; by degrees both of us found that nothing 
 was more natural than this relation. I liked her more and 
 more, while her manner of treating me gave evidence of a 
 beautifivl calm confidence, so that on many an occasion if a 
 priest had been present we might have been imited on the 
 spot without much hesitation. 
 
 As at each of our social gatherings something new was 
 required to be read aloud, I "brought with me one evening a 
 perfect novelty-. The Memoir of Beamnarchais against Cla^^go, 
 in the original. It garaed great applause. The thoughts to 
 which it gave occasion were freely expressed, and after much 
 had been spoken on both sides, my pai-tner said : " If I were 
 thy liege lady and not thy wife', I would entreat thee to 
 
 * Members of the same family address each other with the second 
 person singular, "Du," instead of the more formal third person plural, 
 **Sie." In the same way the French employ "Tu" instead of "Vous." 
 
 Trans.
 
 THE CLATIGO. 59 
 
 change this memoir into a play: it seems to me perfectly 
 suited for it." "That thou mayst see, my love," I replied, 
 *' that liege lady and wife can be united in one person, I pro- 
 mise that, at the cud of a week, the subject-matter of this 
 work, in the form of a piece for the theati-c, shall be read 
 aloud, as has just been done with these pages." They won- 
 dered at so bold a promise, but I did not delay to set about 
 accomplishing it. What, in such cases, is called invention, 
 was with me instantaneous. As I was escorting home my 
 titulaiy wife I was silent. She asked me what was the 
 matter? "lam thinking out the play," I answered, "and 
 have got already into the middle of it. I M-ished to show 
 thee that I would gladly do anything to please thee." She 
 pressed my hand, and as I in retm-n snatched a kiss, fehe said: 
 "Thou must forget thy character! To be loving, people 
 think, is not proper for man-ied follvS." " Let them think," 
 I rejoined. " we will have it our o\^Tl way." 
 
 Before I got home, and indeed I took a very circuitous 
 route, the piece was prett}' far advanced. Lest tliis should 
 seem boastful, I will confess that previously, on the first and 
 second reading, the subject had appeared to me dramatic 
 and even theatrical, but, without such a stimulus, this piece, 
 like so many others, would have remained among the number 
 of the merely possible creations. My mode of treating it is 
 well enough lalo^vn. Weary of villains, who, from revenge, 
 hate, or mean purposes, attack a noble nature and luin it, 
 I wished, in Cai-los, to show the working of clear good 
 sense, associated with true friendship, against passion, inclina- 
 tion and outward necessity; in order, for once, to compose a 
 tragedy in this way. Availing myself of the example of our 
 patriarch Shakspeare, I did not hesitate for a moment to 
 translate, word for word, the chief scene, and all that was pro- 
 perly dramatic in the original. Finally, for the conclusion, I 
 borrowed the end of an English ballad, and so I was readj^ 
 before the Friday came. The good effect which I attained in 
 the reading will easily be believed. My liege spoiise took 
 not a little pleasure in it, and it seemed as if, by this produc- 
 tion, as an intellectual offspring, our union was dra^^Ti closer 
 and dearer. 
 
 Mephistopheles Merk here did me, for the first time, a 
 great injmy. ^V^len I commiinicated the piece to him he
 
 60 TRUTH A^'I> poetry: from jNIY OAVX I/IFE. 
 
 answered: "You must write hereafter no more sucli trifles; 
 others can do such things." In this he was wrong. We 
 shotdd not, in all things, transcend the notions which men 
 have already formed; it is good that much should be in ac- 
 cordance with the common way of thinking. Had I at that 
 time Mritten a dozen such pieces, Avhich with a little stimulus 
 would have been easy enough, thi'ee or fom- of them would 
 perhaps have retained a place on the stage. Every theatrical 
 manager who knows the value of a repertoire, can say what 
 an advantage that woidd have been. 
 
 By these, and other intellectual diversions, om- whimsical 
 game of maniage became a family story, if not the talk of 
 the town, which did not sound disagreeably in the ears of the 
 mothers of om- fair ones. My mother, also, was not at aU 
 opposed to such an event; she had before looked with favor 
 on the lady with whom I had fallen into so strange a relation, 
 and did not doubt that she would make as good a daughter- 
 in-law as a wife. The aimless bustle in w^hich I had for some 
 time lived was not to her mind, and, in fact, she had to bear 
 the worst of it. It was her part to provide abimdant en- 
 tertainment for the stream of guests, without any compensa- 
 tion for fm-nishiiig quarters to this literary army, other than 
 the honor they did her son by feasting upon him. Besides, 
 it was clear to her that so many young persons — aU of them 
 •without property — united not only for scientific and poetic 
 purposes, but also for that of passing the time in the gayest 
 manner, would soon become a burthen and injmy to them- 
 selves, and most certainly to me, whose thoughtless generosity 
 and passion for becoming secmity for others she too well 
 knew. 
 
 Accordingly, she looked on the long-planned Italian jom*- 
 ney, which my father once more brought forward, as the best 
 means of cutting short all these connexions at once. But, in 
 order that no new danger might spring up in the wide world, 
 she intended first of all to bind fast the imion which had already 
 been suggested, so as to make a return into my native coun- 
 try more desirable, and my final determination more decided. 
 Whether I only attribute this scheme to her, or whether she 
 had actually formed it with her departed friend, I am not quite 
 sm-e ; enough, that her actions seemed to be based on a weU- 
 digestcd plan. I had very often to hear from her a regret
 
 PKirAKATIOXS lOK MY WEDDIXG. 61 
 
 that since Cornelia's marriage our family circle was altogether 
 too small; it was felt that I had lost a sister, rny mother 
 an assistant, and my father a pupil; nor was this all that 
 was said. It happened, as if by accident, that my parents 
 met the lady on a walk, invited her into the garden, and 
 conversed with her for a long time. Thereupon there was 
 some pleasantly at tea-table, and the remark was made with 
 a certain satisfaction that she had pleased my father, as she 
 possessed all the chief qualities which he as a connoisseur 
 of women required. 
 
 One thing after another was now arranged in om- first 
 story, as if guests were expected ; the linen was reviewed, 
 and some hitherto neglected furniture was thought of. One 
 day I surprised my mother in a garret examining the old 
 cradles, among which an immense one of walnut inlaid with 
 ivory and ebony, in which I had formerly been rocked, was 
 especially prominent. She did not seem altogether pleased 
 when I said to her, that such swing-boxes were quite out of 
 fashion, and that now people put babies, with free limbs, into 
 a neat little basket, and cai-ricd them about for show, by a 
 strap over the shoulder, like other small Avares. 
 
 Enough ; — such prognostics of a renewal of domestic acti- 
 vity became frequent, and, as I was in every way submissive, 
 the thought of a state which would last through life spread 
 a peace over om- house and its inhabitants such as had not 
 been enjoyed for a long time.
 
 SIXTEENTH BOOK. 
 
 What people commonly say of misfortunes : that they never 
 come alone : may with, almost as much truth be said also of 
 good fortime, and. indeed, of other circiunstances which often 
 cluster around us in a harmonious way ; whether it be by a 
 Idnd of fatality, or whether it be that man has the power of 
 attracting to himself aU mutually related things. 
 
 At any rate, my present experience shewed me everj-tliing 
 conspiring to produce an outward and an inward peace. The 
 former came to me while I resolved patiently to await the 
 result of what others were meditating and designing for me ; 
 the latter, how^ever, I had to attain for myself by renewing 
 former studies. 
 
 I had not thought of Spinoza for a long time, and now I 
 was driven to him by an attack upon him. In our library I 
 found a little book, the author of which railed violently against 
 that original thinker ; and to go the more effectually to work, 
 had inserted for a frontispiece a pictm^e of Spinoza himself, 
 with the inscription : ^^ Signuni reprohationis in vultic gerens''' 
 bearing on his face the stamp of reprobation. This there 
 was no gainsaying, indeed, so long as one looked at the 
 picture; for the engraving was wretchedly bad, a perfect 
 caricatm-e ; so that I could not help thinking of those adver- 
 saries who, when they conceive a disUke to any one, first of 
 all misrepresent him, and then assail the monster of their 
 o^vn creation. 
 
 This little book, however, made no impression upon me, 
 since generally I did not like controversial works, but preferred 
 always to learn from the author himself how he did think, 
 than to hear from another how he ought to have thought. 
 Still, curiosity led me to the article "Spinoza," inBayle's Dic- 
 tionary, a work as valuable for its learning and acuteness as 
 it is ridiculous and pernicious by its gossiping and scandal. 
 
 The article "Spinoza" excited in me displeasure and mis- 
 trust. In the fii'st place, the philosopher is rej)resented as an 
 atheist, and his opinions as most abominable; but imme- 
 diately afterwards it is confessed that he was a calmly reflec-
 
 SPINOZA HIS PRINCIPXES. 63 
 
 ting man, devoted to his studies, a good citizen, a sympathiz- 
 ing neighbour, and a peaceable individual. The writer seemed 
 to me to have quite forgotten the words of the gospel: "^y 
 their fruits ye shall know theni,^'' for how could a life pleasing 
 in the sight of God and man spring from corrupt principles ? 
 
 I well remembex-ed what peace of mind and clearness of 
 ideas came over me when I first turned over the posthumous 
 works of that remarkable man. The effect itself was stiU 
 quite distinct to my mind, though I could not recall the par- 
 ticulars ; I therefore speedily had recom-se again to the works 
 to which I had owed so much, and again the same calm air 
 breathed over me. I gave myself up to tliis reading, and 
 believed, while I looked into myself, that I had never 
 before so clearly seen tlu'ough the world. 
 
 As, on this subject, there always has been, and still is even 
 in these later times, so much controversy, I would not wish to 
 be misimderstood, and therefore I make here a few remarks 
 upon these so much feared, yea, abhorred views. 
 
 Our physical as well as our social life, manners, customs, 
 worldly wisdom, philosophy, religion, and many an accidental 
 event, aU call upon us, to deny ourselves. Much that is most 
 inwardly peculiar to us we are not allowed to develope; 
 much that we need from without for the completion of oiu: 
 character is withheld; while, on the other hand, so much is 
 forced upou us Avhich is as alien to us as it is burdensome. 
 We are robbed of all that we have laboriously acquired for 
 ourselves, or friendly circumstances have bestowed upon us; 
 and before we can see clearly what we are, VT^e find our- 
 selves compelled to part with our personality, piece by piece, 
 till at last it is gone altogether. Indeed, the case is so 
 universal that it seems a law of society to despise a man 
 who shows himself surly on that account. On the contraiy, 
 the bitterer the cup we have to drinl<, the more pleasant face 
 must one make, in order that composed lookers on may not 
 be offended by the least grimace. 
 
 To solve this painftd problem, however, nature has endowed 
 man with ample power, activity, and endm-ance. But especi- 
 ally is he aided therein by his volatility {Letch tshw), a boon to 
 man, which nothing can take away. By its means he is able 
 To renoimce the cherished object of the moment, if only the 
 next presents him something new to reach at ; and thus he
 
 64 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM JIY OWX LIFE. 
 
 goes on unconsciously, remodelling his "whole life. We are 
 continually putting one passion in the place of another; 
 employments, inclinations, tastes, hobbies — we try them all, 
 only to exclaim at last. All is vanity. No one is shocked by 
 this false and murmuring speech; nay, every one thinks, 
 ■while he says it, that he is vittering a wise and indisputable 
 maxim. A few men there are, and only a few, who anticipate 
 this insupportable feeling, and avoid all calls to such partial 
 resignation by one gi-and act of total self-renunciation. 
 
 Such men convince themselves of the Eternal, the Neces- 
 sary, and of Immutable Law, and seek to form to themselves 
 ideas which are incorruptible, nay which observation of the 
 Perishable does not shake, but rather confirms. But since 
 in this there is something superhuman, such persons are 
 commonly esteemed /?i-human, without a God and without a 
 World. People hardly know what sort of horns and claws 
 to give them. 
 
 My confidence in Spinoza rested on the serene effect he 
 wrought in me, and it only increased when I found my 
 worthy mystics were accused of Spinozism, and learned that 
 even Leibnitz himself could not escape the charge ; nay, that 
 Boerhaave, being suspected of similar sentiments, had to 
 abandon Theology for Medicine. 
 
 But let no one think that I would have subscribed to his 
 writings, and assented to them rerhatim et literatim. For, 
 that no one really \mderstands another ; that no one attaches 
 the same idea to the same word which another does; that a 
 dialogue, a book, excites in difierent persons different trains 
 of thought: — this I had long seen all too plainly; and the 
 reader will trust the assertion of the author of Faust and 
 IVerther, that deeply experienced in such misunderstandings, 
 he was never so presumptuous as to think that he xmderstootl 
 perfectly a man, who, as the scholar of Descartes, raised 
 himself, through mathematical and rabbinical studies, to the 
 highest reach of thought ; and whose name even at this day 
 seems to mark the limit of all speculative efforts. 
 
 How much I appropriated from Spinoza, would be seen 
 distinctly enough, if the visit of the " Wandering Jew," to 
 Spinoza, which I had devised as a worthy ingredient for that 
 poem, existed in writing. But it pleased me so much in the 
 conception, and I found so much delight iai meditating on it
 
 I INFLUEXCE OF SPINOZA. 65 
 
 in silence, that I never could bring myself to the point of 
 T\Titing it out. Thus the notion, -which -would have been v*-ell 
 enough as a passing joke, expanded itself until it lost its 
 charm, and I banished it from my mind as something trouble- 
 some. The chief points, ho^^•evel•, of what I owed to my 
 study of Spinoza, so far as they have remained indelibly 
 impressed on my mind, and have exercised a great influence 
 on the subsequent course of my life, I will now unfold as 
 briefly and succinctly as possible. 
 
 Nature works after such eternal, necessary, di^■iue laws, 
 that the Deity himself could alter notliing in them. In this 
 belief, all men are unconsciously agreed. Think only how a 
 natural phenomenon, which should intimate any degTee of 
 xmdcrstanding, reason, or even of caprice, would instantly 
 astonish and terrify us. 
 
 If anj^liing like reason shows itself in brutes, it is long 
 before we can recover from om- amazement; for, although 
 they stand so near to us, they nevertheless seem to be divided 
 from us by an infinite gulf, and to belong altogether to the 
 kingdom of necessity. It is therefore impossible to take it ill 
 if some thinkers have pronounced the infinitely ingenious, 
 but strictly limited, organisation of those creatui-es, to be 
 thoroughly mechanical. 
 
 If we tm-n to plants, our position is still more strikingly 
 confii-med. How unaccomitable is the feehug -which seizes an 
 obsel■^•er upon seeing the Mimosa, as soon as it is touched, 
 fold together in pairs its downy leaves, and finally clap down 
 its little stalk as if upon a joint [Geicerbe). StiU higher rises 
 that feeling, to which I will give no name, at the sight of the 
 Hedysarum Gyrans, Avliich without any apparent outward 
 occasion moves up and down its little leaves, and seems to 
 play with itself as with om- thoughts. Let us imagine a 
 Banana, suddenly endowed with a similar capacity, so 
 that of itself it coifld by turns let do-v\-n and lift up again 
 its huge leafy canopy ; who would not, upon seeing it the first 
 time, start back in terror ? So rooted within us is the idea of 
 our o-WTi superiority, that we absolutely refuse to concede to 
 the outward world any part or portion in it ; nay, if we could, 
 we would too often withhold such advantages from om* 
 fellows. 
 
 On the other hand, a similar horror seizes upon us, when 
 Vol. II. P
 
 66 TEUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE, 
 
 "we see a man unreasonably opposing universally recognised 
 moral laws, or un\\'isely acting against the interest of himself 
 and others. To get rid of the repugnance which we feel on 
 such occasions, we convert it at once into censure or detesta- 
 tion, and we seek either in reality or in thought to get free 
 from such a man. 
 
 This contrariety between Reason and Necessity', which 
 Spinoza tlu'ew out in so strong a light, I, strangely enough, 
 applied to my oa^ti being; and what has been said is, pro- 
 perly speaking, only for the piu-pose of rendering intelligible 
 what follows. 
 
 I had come to look upon my indwelling poetic talent 
 altogether as Natui's; the more so, as I had always been 
 impelled to regard outward Natiu-e as its proper object. 
 The exercise of this poetic gift could indeed be excited and 
 determined by cii-cumstances ; but its most joyful, its richest 
 action was spontaneous — nay, even involuntary. 
 
 Through field and forest roaming, 
 My little songs still hiimming. 
 So went it all dav long. 
 
 In my nightly \dgils the same thing happened; I therefore 
 often wished, like one of my predecessors, to get me a 
 leathern jerkin made, and to accustom myself to wi-ite in the 
 dark so as to be able to fix downi at once all such unpre- 
 meditated effusions. So frequently had it happened that 
 after composing a little piece in my head I could not recall 
 it, that I would now hurrj'- to the desk and, at one stand- 
 ing, wi'ite ofi" the poem from beginning to end, and as I 
 could not spare time to adjust my paper, however obliquely 
 it might lie, the lines often crossed it diagonally. In such a 
 mood I liked best to get hold of a lead pencU, because I 
 could write most readily with it; whereas the scratching and 
 spluttering of the pen would sometimes wake me from my 
 somnambular poetizing, conftise me, and stifle a little concep- 
 tion in its Tbirth. For the poems thus created I had a par- 
 ticular reverence; for I felt towards them somewhat as the 
 hen does towards her chickens, which she sees hatched and 
 chirping about her. My old whim, of making known these 
 things only by means of private readings, now returned to 
 me : to exchange them for money seemed to me detestable.
 
 HIMBUBG THE PIKATICAL BOOKSELLER. G7 
 
 And this suggests to me to mention in the present place a 
 little incident, which however did not take place till some time 
 after. When the demand for my works had increased and a 
 collected edition of them was much called for, these feelings 
 held me back from preparing it myself; Himbm-g, however, 
 took advantage of my hesitation, and I unexpectedly received 
 one day several copies of my collected works in print. With 
 cool audacity this imauthorized publisher even boasted of 
 having done me a public service, and offered to send me, if I 
 wished, some Berlin porcelain by way of compensation. His 
 offer served to remind me of the law which compelled the 
 Jews of Berlin, when they married, to pui-chase a certain 
 quantity of porcelain, in order to keep up the sale of the 
 Koyal manufactiu'e. Tlie contempt which was shewn for 
 the shameless pii-ate, led me to suppress the indignation 
 which I could not but feel at such a robbery. I gave him no 
 reply; and while he was making himself very comfortable 
 with my property, I revenged myself in silence with the 
 : following' verses : — 
 
 Records of the years once dream'd away, 
 Long fallen hairs, and flow'rs that shew decay. 
 Faded ribbons, veils so lightly wove. 
 The mournful pledges of a vanished love ; 
 Things that to the flames should long have gone, 
 -^Saucy Sosias snatches every one. 
 Just as though he were the heir to claim, 
 Lawfully the poets' works and fame. 
 And to make the owner full amends 
 Paltry tea and coffee-cups he sends ! 
 Take your china back, your gingerbread! 
 For all Himburgs li\'ing I am dead. 
 
 This very Nature, however, which thus spontaneously 
 brought forth so many longer and smaller works, was subject 
 to long pauses, and for considerable periods I was miable, 
 even when I most wished it, to produce anything, and ,con- 
 sequently often suffered from ennui. The perception of 
 such contrasts Avithin me gave rise to the thought whether it 
 would not be my wisest course to employ on tlie other hand 
 for my own and others' profit and advantage, the human, 
 rational, and intellectual part of my being, and so as I already 
 
 r 2
 
 68 XKL'TH AST) poetry: FROJI MY OAVX LIFE. 
 
 had done, and as I now felt myself more and more called upon 
 to do, devote the iuter\-als when Nature ceased to influence me, 
 to worldly occupations, and thus to leave no one of my faculties 
 imused. This course, which seemed to be dictated by those 
 general ideas before described, was so much in hai-mony with 
 my character and my position in life, that I resolved to adopt 
 it and by this means to check the wavering and hesitation to 
 which I had hitherto been subject. Very pleasant was it to 
 me to reflect, that thus for actual ser'S'ice to my fellow men, 
 I might demand a substantial reward, Avhile on the other hand 
 I might go on disinterestedly spending that lovely gift of 
 natm-e as a sacred thing. By this consideration I guarded 
 against the bitterness of feeling which might have arisen 
 when circumstances should force upon the remark that pre- 
 cisely this talent, so courted and admired in Germany, was 
 treated as altogether beyond the pale of the law and of justice. 
 For not only were piracies considered perfectly allowable, 
 and even comical in Berlin, but the estimable Margrave of 
 Baden, so praised for his administrative virtues, and the 
 Emperor Joseph who had justified so many hopes, lent their 
 sanction, one to his Macldot, and the other to his honorable 
 noble von Trattner; and it was declared, that the rights, as 
 well as the property of genius, should be left at the absolute 
 mercy of the trade. 
 
 One day, when we were complaining of this to a visitor 
 from Baden, he told us the following stoiy: Her ladyship 
 the ^Margravine, being a very active lady, had established a 
 paper-manufactory; but the paper was so bad, that it was 
 impossible to dispose of it. Thereupon Mr. bookseller Mack- 
 lot proposed, if he were permitted to print the German poets 
 and prose wTiters, he would use this paper, and thus enhance 
 its value. The proposition was adopted with avidity. 
 
 Of coui'se, we pronounced this malicious piece of scandal 
 to be a mere fabrication ; but found om- pleasm-e in it not- 
 AArithstanding. The name of Macklot became a by- word at 
 the time, and was applied by us to all mean transactions. 
 And, a versatile youth, often reduced to borroArag himself, 
 while others' meanness was making itself rich upon his 
 talents, felt himself sufficiently compensated by a couple of 
 go.od jokes.
 
 ) 
 
 X SCENE AT A FIKE. 69 
 
 Children and youths wander on in a sort of happy intoxica- 
 tion, which betrays itself especially in the fact, that the good, 
 innocent creatures are scarcely able to notice, and still less 
 to understand, the ever changing state of things around them. 
 They regard the world as raw material which they must shape, 
 as a treasure which they must take possession of. Everything 
 they seem to think belongs to them, everything must be 
 subservient to their will ; indeed, on this account, the greater 
 part lose themselves in a wild uncontrollable temper. With 
 the better part, however, this tendency vmfolds itself into a 
 moral enthusiasm, which, occasionally moves of its own 
 accord after some actual or seemmg good, but still oftener 
 suffers itself to bo prompted, led, and even misled. 
 
 Such was the case with the youth of whom we are at 
 present speaking, and if he appeared rather strange to man- 
 kind, still he seemed welcome to many. At the very first 
 meeting you foiuid in him a freedom from reserve, a chcc-rfid 
 open-heartedness in conversation, and in action the unpreme- 
 ditated suggestions of the moment. Of the latter ti-ait a 
 story or two. 
 
 In the close-built Jews' street {Judengussc), a violent con- 
 flagration had broken out. My universal benevolence, which 
 prompted me to lend my active aid to all, led mc to the spot, 
 full dressed as I was. A passage had been broken through 
 from All Saints' street {Allerheiligcngasse), and thither I 
 repaired. I found a great number of men busied witli can-y- 
 ing water, rushing forward with fuU buckets, and back again 
 with empty ^ics. I soon saw that, by forming a lane for 
 passing up and down the buckets, the help we rendered might 
 be doubled. I seized two full buckets and remained standing 
 and called others to me; those who came on were reUeved ot 
 their load, while those retm-ning arranged themselves in a 
 row on the other side. The arrangement was applauded, my 
 address and personal sympathy fovmd favor, and the lane, 
 \mbroken from its commencement to its burning goal, was 
 soon completed. Scarcely, however, had the cheerfulness 
 which this inspired, called forth a joyous, I might even say, a 
 merry humor in this living machine, all of whose parts 
 worked well together, ^^'hen wantonness began to appear, and 
 "was soon succeeded by a love of mischief. The wretched 
 fugitives, dragging oil' their miserable substance upon their
 
 70 inuTH AND poetky; prom my own hfe. 
 
 backs, if they once got within the lane, must pass on without 
 stopping, and if they veutui-ed to halt for a moment's rest, 
 were immediately assailed. Saucy boys would sprinkle them, 
 with the water, and even add insidt to misciy. However, by 
 means of gentle words and eloquent reproofs, prompted per- 
 haps by a regard to my best clothes, which were in danger, 
 I managed to put a stop to theii* rudeness. 
 
 Some of my friends had from curiosity approached, to gaze 
 on the calamity, and seemed astonished to see their com- 
 panion, in thin shoes and silk stocldngs — for that was then 
 the fashion — engaged in this wet business. But few of them 
 could I persuade to join us; the others laughed and shook 
 their heads. We stood our ground, however, a long while, 
 for, if any were tired and went away, there were plenty 
 ready to take their places. Many sight-seers, too, came 
 merely for the sake of the spectacle, and so my innocent 
 daring became universally known, and the strange disregard 
 of etiquette became the town-talk of the day. 
 
 This readiness to do any action that a good-natui-ed whim 
 might prompt, which proceeded from a happy self-conscious- 
 ness which men are apt to blame as vanity, made our friend 
 to be talked of for other oddities. 
 
 A very inclement winter had completely covered the Main 
 Avith ice, and converted it into a solid floor. The liveliest 
 intercourse, both for business and pleasure, was kept up on 
 the ice. Boimdless skating-paths, and mde, smooth frozen 
 plains, swarmed with a moving multitude. I never failed to 
 be there early in the morning, and once, beii^fej lightly clad, 
 felt myself nearly fi-ozen thi'ough by the time that my mother 
 ai'rived, who usually came at a later hour to visit the scene. 
 She sat in the carriage, in her purple-velvet and fur-trimmed 
 cloak, which, held together on her breast by a strong golden 
 cord and tassel, looked quite fine. " Give me your furs, dear 
 mother!" I cried out on the instant, without a moment's 
 thought, "I am terribly frozen." She, too, did not stop 
 to thirdi, and so in a moment I was wrapped in her cloak. 
 Reaching half-way below my knees wath its purple-colour, 
 sable-border, and gold trimmings, it contrasted not badly 
 with the brown fur cap I wore. Thus clad, I carelessly went 
 on skating up and down ; the crowd was so great that no 
 especial notice was taken of my strange appearance; still it
 
 INTRODUCTION TO XIXLI. 71 
 
 •was not unobserved, for often afterwards it was brouglit up, 
 in jest or in earnest, among my other eccentricities. 
 
 Leaving these recollections of ha2)py and spontaneous 
 action, we will now resume the sober thread of oiu- narra- 
 tive. 
 
 A witty Frenchman has said : If a clever man has once 
 attracted the attention of the public by any meritorious work, 
 every one does his best to prevent his ever doing a similar 
 thing again. 
 
 It is even so : something good and spirited is produced in 
 the quiet seclusion of youth; applause is won, but indepen- 
 dence is lost; the concenti'atcd talent is pulled about and 
 distracted, because people think that they may pluck off and 
 appropriate to themselves a portion of the personality. 
 
 It was owing to this that I received a great many invita- 
 tions, or, rather, not exactly invitations : a friend, an acquaint- 
 ance would propose, with even more than lu-gency, to intro- 
 duce me here or there. 
 
 The quasi stranger, now described as a bear on account of 
 his frequent smiy refusals, and then again like Voltaire's 
 Hm-on, or Cumberland's West Indian, as a child of nature 
 in spite of many talents, excited curiosity, and in various 
 families negotiations were set on foot to see him. 
 
 Among others, a friend one evening entreated me to go 
 with him to a little concert to be given in the house of an 
 eminent merchant of the reformed persuasion. It was already 
 late; but as I loved to do eveiything on the spur of the 
 moment, I went with him, decently dressed, as usual. We 
 entered a chamber on the ground floor, — the ordinary but 
 spacious sitting-room of the family. The company was 
 numerous, a piano stood in the middle, at which the only 
 daughter of the house sat down immediately, and played with 
 considerable facility and grace. I stood at the lower end of' 
 the piano, that I might be near enough to observe her form 
 and bearing; there was something child-like in her manner; 
 the movements she was obliged to make in playing were 
 tmconstrained and easy. 
 
 After the sonata was finished, she stepped towards the end 
 of the piano to meet me; we merely saluted, however, 
 without further conversation, for a qtiartet had already com-
 
 72 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 menced. At the close of it, I moved some-what nearer and 
 uttered some ci-\dl compliment ; telling her what pleasure it 
 gave me that my fii'st acquaintance with her should have also 
 made me acquainted with her talent. She managed to make 
 a very clever reply, and kept her position as I did mine. I 
 saw that she observed me closely, and that I was really stand- 
 ing for a show ; but I took it all in good part, since I had 
 something graceful to look at in my turn. Meanwhile, we 
 gazed on one another, and I "will not deny that I was sen- 
 sible of feeling an attractive power of the gentlest kind. The 
 moving about of the company, and her performances, pre- 
 vented any fiu-ther approach that evening. But I must con- 
 fess that I was anything but displeased, when, on taking 
 leave, the mother gave me to imderstand that they hoped 
 soon to see me again, while the daughter seemed to join in 
 the request with some friendliness of manner. I did not fail, 
 at suitable intervals, to repeat my visit, since, on such occa- 
 sions, I was sure of a cheerful and intellectual conversation, 
 which seemed to prophesy no tie of passion. 
 
 In the meantime, the hospitality of our house once laid 
 open caused many an inconvenience to my good parents and 
 myself. At any rate it had not proved in any way beneficial 
 to my steadfast desire to notice the Higher, to study it, to 
 fuither it, and if possible to imitate it. Men, I saw, so far as 
 they were good, were pious ; and, so far as they were active, 
 were un\vise and oftentimes unapt. The former could not 
 help me, and the latter only confused me. One remarkable 
 case I have carefully "\\Titten down. 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1775, Juis^G, afterwards 
 called Stilling, from the Lower Rhine, announced to us that he 
 was coming to Frankfort, being invited as an oculist, to treat 
 an important case ; the nev\-s Avas welcome to my parents and 
 myself, and we offered him quarters. 
 
 Herr von Lersner, a worthy man advanced in years, univer- 
 sally esteemed for his success in the education and training 
 of princely chikken, and for his intelligent manners at court 
 and on his travels, had been long afilicted vrith. total blind- 
 ness ; his strong hope of obtaining some relief of his affliction 
 withnot entirely extinct. Now, for several years past, Jung, 
 was skilful boldness and a steady hand, had, in the Lower Rhine, 
 successfully couched for the cataract, and thus had gained a
 
 JUNG OK STILLING. 73 
 
 wide-spread reputation. The candor of his soul, his truth- 
 fuhiess of character, and genuine piety, gained him universal 
 confidence ; this extended up the river through the mediun^ 
 of various parties connected by business. Hcit von Lersner 
 and his friends, upon the advice of an intelHgent physician, 
 resolved to send for the successful oculist, although a Frank- 
 fort merchant, in whose ease the cure had failed, earnestly 
 endeavored to dissuade them. But what was a single failure 
 against so many successful cases ! So Jung came, enticed by 
 the hope of a handsome remuneration, which heretofore he 
 had been accustomed to renoimce ; he came, to increase his 
 reputation, full of confidence and in high spirits, and we con- 
 gratulated ourselves on the prospect of such an excellent and 
 lively table-companion. 
 
 At last, after a preparatory coiu-se of medicine, the cataract 
 upon both eyes was couched. Expectation was at its height. 
 It was said that the patient saw the moment after the opera- 
 tion, until the bandage again shut out the light. But iL \yas 
 remarked that Jung was not cheerful, and that something 
 weighed on his spuits; indeed, on further inquiry he con- 
 fessed to mc that he Avas uneasy as to the result of the opera- 
 tion. Commonly, for I had witnessed several operations of 
 the kind in Strasburg, nothing in the world seemed easier 
 than such cases; and Stilling himself had operated success- 
 fully a hrmdi-ed times. After piercing the insensible cornea, 
 which gave no pain, the dull lens would, at the slightest pres- 
 sure, spring forward of itself; the patient immediately dis- 
 cerned objects, and only had to wait with bandaged eyes, 
 until the completed cure should allow him to use the precious 
 organ at his own will and convenience. How many a poor 
 man, for whom Jimg had procured tliis happiness, had 
 invoked God's blessing and reward upon his benefactor, 
 which was now to be realized by means of this Avealthy 
 patient ! 
 
 Jmig confessed to me that this time the operation had not 
 gone off so easily and so successfully; the lens had not jsprung 
 forward, he had been obliged to draw it out, and indeed, as 
 it had gi-own to the socket, to loosen it ; and this he was not 
 able to do -s\dthout violence. He now reproached himself for 
 having operated also on the other eye. But Lersner and his 
 friends had firmly resolved to have both couched at the same
 
 74 TRUTH AXD POETKY ; FEOil MY 0"\VX LIFE. 
 
 time, and when the emergency ocemTed, they did not imme- 
 diately recover presence of mind enough to think what was 
 best. Suffice it to say, the second lens also did not spontane- 
 ously spring forward; but had to be loosened and drawn out 
 with difficidty. 
 
 How much pain om- benevolent, good-natured, pious friend 
 felt in this case, it is impossible to describe or to unfold ; some 
 general observations on his state of mind will not be out of 
 place here. 
 
 To labor for his owm moral cultm-e, is the simplest and 
 most practicable thing which man can propose to himself; 
 the impidse is inborn in him; while in social life both reason 
 and love, prompt or rather force him to do so. 
 
 Stilling could only live in a moral religious atmosphere of 
 love ; without sjonpathy, "without hearty response, he coidd 
 not exist; he demanded mutual attachment; where he was 
 not known, he was silent; where he was only known, not 
 loved, he was sad; accordingly he got on best with those 
 well-disposed persons, who can set themselves down for life 
 in their assigned vocation and go to work to perfect them- 
 selves in theii" narrow but peaceful sphere. 
 
 Such persons succeed pretty well in stifling vanity, in 
 renovuicing the pursuit of outward power, in acquii'iag a cir- 
 cumspect way of speaking, and in preserving a imiformly 
 friendly manner towards companions and neighbors. 
 
 Frequently Ave may observe in this class traces of a certain 
 form of mental character, modified by individual varieties ; 
 such persons, accidentally excited, attach great weight to the 
 course of their experience ; they consider eveiything a super- 
 natm"al determination, in the conviction that God interferes 
 immediately with the coiu-se of the world. 
 
 With all this there is associated a certain disposition to 
 abide in liis present state, and yet at the same time to allow 
 themselves to be pushed or led on, which results from a certain 
 indecision to act of themselves. The latter is increased by 
 the miscarriage of the Avisest plans, as well as by the acci- 
 dental success brought about by the unforeseen concm-rence 
 of favorable occun-ences. 
 
 Now, since a vigilant manly character is much checked by 
 this way of life, it is well worthy of reflection and inquiry, 
 how men are most liable to fall into such a state.
 
 STIIiXING. 
 
 75 
 
 The things sympathetic persons of this kind love most to 
 talk of, are the so-called awakenings and conversions, to 
 •which we will not deny a certain psychological value. They 
 are properly what we call in scientific and poetic matters, an 
 "flperfw;" the perception of a great maxim, which is always 
 a genivis-like operation of the mind; we arrive at it by pm-e 
 intuition, that is, by reflection, neither by learning or tradi- 
 tion. In the cases before us it is the perception of the moral 
 power, which anchors in faith, and thus feels itself in proud 
 security in the midst of the waves. 
 
 Such an aperqu gives the discoverer the greatest joy, because, 
 in an original manner, it points to the infinite ; it requires no 
 length of time to work conviction ; it leaps forth whole and 
 complete in a moment ; hence the quaint old French rhyme : 
 
 En peu d'hetire 
 Dieu labeure. 
 
 Outward occasions often work violently in bringing about 
 such conversions, and then people think they see in them 
 signs and wonders. 
 
 Love and confidence boimd me most heartily to Stilling; 
 I had moreover exercised a good and happy influence on his 
 life, and it was quite in accordance with his disposition, to 
 treasure up in a tender gi-ateful heart the remembrance of all 
 that had ever been done for him ; but in my existing fi-ame 
 of mind and pursuits his society neither benefited nor cheered 
 me. I was glad to let every one interpret as he pleased and 
 work out the riddle of his days, but this way of ascribing to 
 an immediate divine influence, aU the good that after a 
 rational mamier occurs to us in our chanceful life, seemed 
 to me too presumptuous; and the habit of regarding the 
 painful consequences of the hasty acts and omissions of om- 
 own thoughtlessness or conceit, as a di\Tne chastisement, did 
 not at aU suit me. I could, therefore, only listen to my good 
 friend, but could not give him any very encouraging reply; 
 stiU I readily sufiered him, like so many others, to go his 
 own way, and defended him since then, as well as before, 
 when others, of too worldly a mind, did not hesitate to woimd 
 his gentle nature. Thus I never allowed a roguish remark 
 to come to his ears, made by a waggish man who once very 
 earnestly exclaimed: "No! indeed, if I were as intimate
 
 76 TRUTH AND POETKY; FKOM MT OWK LIFE. 
 
 with God as Jung is, I would never pray to the Most High 
 for gold, but for wisdom and good counsel, that I might not 
 make so many blimders which cost money, and draw after 
 them A^i-etched years of debt." 
 
 In truth, it was no time for such jests. Between hope and 
 fear several more days passed away; with him the latter 
 gi-ew, the former waned, and, at last, vanished altogether ; the 
 eyes of the good patient man had become inflamed, and there 
 remained no doubt that the operation had failed. 
 
 The state of mind to which ovu- friend was reduced hereby, 
 is not to be described ; he was struggling against the deepest 
 and worst kind of despair. For what was there now that he 
 had not lost! In the first place, the warm thanks of one 
 restored to sight — the noblest reward which a physician can 
 enjoy; then the confidence of others similarly needing help; 
 then his worldly credit, while the interruption of his pecidiar 
 practice Avoidd reduce his fimily to a helpless state. In 
 short, we played the motu-nful drama of Job through from 
 beginning to end, since the faithful Jimg took himself the 
 part of the reproving friends. He chose to regard this cala- 
 mity as the punishment of his former faults ; it seemed to 
 him that in taking his accidental discovery of an eye-cm-e as 
 a divine call to that business, he had acted wickedly and pro- 
 fanely; he reproached himself for not having thoroughly 
 studied this highly important department, instead of lightly 
 trusting his cm-cs to good fortune ; what his enemies had said 
 of him recm-red again to his mind ; he began to doubt 
 whether perhaps it was not all true ? and it pained him the 
 more deeply when he fomid that in the com-se of his life he 
 had been guilty of that levity which is so dangerous to pious 
 men, and also of presiunption and vanity. In such moments 
 he lost himself, and in whatever light we might endeavom- to 
 set the matter, we, at last, elicited from him only the rational 
 and necessary conclusion — that the ways of God are unsearch- 
 able. 
 
 My imceasing efibrts to be cheerful, Avould have been 
 more checked by Jung's visit, if I had not, according to my 
 usual habit, subjected his state of mind to an earnest friendly 
 examination, and explained it after my o^ati fashion. It 
 vexed me not a little to see my good mother so poorly 
 rewarded for her domestic care and pains-takmg, though she
 
 STILLIXg's jew PATIliXT. 77 
 
 did not herself perceive it, with her usual equanimity and 
 ever bustling activity. I was most pained for my father. 
 On my account he, with a good grace, had enlarged what 
 hitherto had been a strictly close and private circle, and at 
 table especially, where the presence of strangers attracted 
 femiliar friends and even passing visitors, he liked to indidge 
 in a men-y, even paradoxical conversation, in which I put 
 him in good humor and drew from him many an approved 
 smile, by all sorts of dialectic pugilism : for I had an ungodly 
 way of disputing everything, which, however, I pertinaciously 
 kept up in every case so long only as he, who maintained the 
 right, was not yet made perfectly ridiculous. During the 
 last few weeks, however, this procedure was not to be thought 
 of; for many veiy happy and most cheering incidents, occa- 
 sioned by some successful secondary cures on the part of om- 
 friend, who had been made so miserable by the failm-e of his 
 principal attempt, did not affect him, much less did they give 
 his gloomy mood another tm-n. 
 
 One incident in particular was most amusing. Among 
 Jung's patients there was a blind old Jewish beggar, who 
 had come from Isenburg to Frankfort, where in the extremity 
 of ^^Tetchedness, he scarcely found a shelter, scarcely the 
 meanest food and attendance ; nevertheless his tough oriental 
 natm-e helped him through and he was in raptures to find 
 himself healed perfectly and without the least suffering. 
 When asked if the operation pained him, he said, in his 
 hyperbolical manner, " If I had a million eyes, I Avould let 
 them all be operated upon, one after the other, for half a 
 Kopfsf/ick^-." On his departui-e he acted quite as eccentrically 
 in the Fahrgasse (or main thoroughfare) ; he thanked God, 
 and in good old testament ^tyle, praised the Lord and the 
 wondrous man whom He had sent. Shouting this he walked 
 slowly on through the long busy street towards the bridge. 
 Buyers and sellers ran out of the shops, surprised by this 
 singular exhibition of pious enthusiasm, passionately venting 
 itself before all the world, and he excited their sympathy to 
 such a degree, that, without asking anything, he was 'amply 
 furnished with gifts for his traveUing expenses. 
 
 This lively incident, however, could hardly be mentioned 
 
 * A coin, with the head of the sovereign stamped upon it, genernUy 
 worth 4-J- good groschen. — Traxs.
 
 78 TKTJTH AND POETKY; FKOM MY OWN IIFE. 
 
 in our circle ; for though the poor wretch, with all his 
 domestic misery, in his sandy home beyond the Main, could 
 still be counted extremely happy; the man of wealth and 
 dignity on this side of the river, for whom we were most 
 interested, had missed the priceless reHef so confidently 
 expected. 
 
 It was sickening, therefore, to our good Jung to receive the 
 thousand guilders, which, being stipulated in any case, were 
 honorably paid by the high-minded siifierer. This ready 
 money was destined to liquidate, on his return, a portion of 
 the debts, which added their burden to other sad and imhappy 
 circumstances. 
 
 And so lie went off inconsolable, for he coidd not help 
 thinldng of his meeting with his care-worn wife, the changed 
 manner of her parents, who, as siu'eties for so many debts of 
 this too confiding man, might, however well-wishing, consider 
 they had made a great mistake in the choice of a partner for 
 the'ii- daughter. In this and that house, fi-om tins and that 
 window, he could already see the scornful and contemptuous 
 looks of those who even when he was prospering, had wished 
 him no good; while the thought of a practice inteiTupted 
 by his absence, and likely to be materially damaged by his 
 failm-e, troubled him extremely. 
 
 And so we took our leave of him, not without aU hope on 
 our parts ; for his strong nature, sustained by faith in super- 
 natural aid, coidd not but inspire his friends with a quiet and 
 moderate confidence.
 
 SEVENTEENTH BOOK. 
 
 In resuming the history of my relation to Lili, I have to 
 mention the many very pleasant hours I spent in her society, 
 partly in the presence of her mother, partly alone with her. 
 On the strength of my writings, people gave me credit for 
 knowledge of the human heart, as it was then called, and 
 in this view our conversations M-ere morally interesting in 
 every way. 
 
 But how coidd we talk of such inward matters without 
 coming to nuitual disclosures? It was not long before, in 
 a quiet hom-, Lili told me the history of her youth. She had 
 grown up in the enjoyment of all the advantages of society 
 and worldly comforts. She described to me her brothers, her 
 relations, and all her nearest connexions ; only her mother 
 was kept in a respectful obscTirity. 
 
 Little weaknesses, too, were thought of; and among them 
 she could not deny, that she had often remarked in herself a 
 certain gift of attracting others, with which, at the same 
 time, was united a certain peculiarity of letting them go 
 again. Bj- prattling on we thus came at last to the important 
 point, that she had exercised this gift upon me too, but had 
 been punished for it, since she had been, attracted by me also. 
 
 These ronfessions floAved forth from so piu-e and childlike a 
 nature, that by them she made me entirely her own. 
 
 We were now necessaiy to each other, Ave had grown 
 into the habit of seeing each other ; but how many a day, 
 how many an evening till far into the night, shoidd I have 
 had to deny myself her company, if I had not reconciled 
 myself to seeing her in her own circles ! This was a somce 
 of manifold pain to me. 
 
 My relation to her was that of a character to a character — 
 I looked upon her as, to a beautiful, amiable, highly accom- 
 plished daughter ; it was lilvc my earlier attachments, but 
 was of a still higher kind. Of outward circumstances, how- 
 ever, of the interchange of social relations, I had never thought. 
 An irresistible longing reigned in me ; I could not be without 
 her, nor she without me; but from the circle which surrounded
 
 80 
 
 her, and tliroiigh the interference of its Individual members, 
 how many days were spoiled, how many houi's wasted. 
 
 The history of pleasui-e parties which ended in dis-pleasure; 
 a retarding brother, whom I was to accompany, who would 
 hov/ever alwaj's be stopping to do some business or other 
 which perhaps somewhat maliciously he was in no hurry to 
 finish, and would thereby spoil the whole well-concerted plan 
 for a meeting, and ever so much more of accident and disap- 
 pointment, of impatience and privation, — all these little 
 troubles, which, circumstantially set forth in a romance, 
 M'oidd certainly find sj-mpathizing readers, I must here omit. 
 However, to bring this merely contemplative account nearer 
 to a lining experience to a youthful sjTupathy, I may insert 
 some songs, which are indeed well knoA^ii but ai-e perhaps 
 especially impressive in this place. 
 
 Heart, my heart, O, what hath changed thee? 
 
 T\Tiat doth vs^eigh on thee so sore ? 
 What hath fi-om myself esti'anged thee. 
 
 That I scarcely knovv' thee more ? 
 Gone is all which once seemed dearest. 
 Gone the care which once was nearest 
 
 Gone thy toils and tranquil bliss. 
 
 Ah ! how couldst thou come to this ? 
 
 Does that bloom so fresh and youthful, — 
 
 That di^ine and lovely form, — 
 That sweet look, so good and truthful, 
 
 Bind thee with resistless charm ? 
 If I swetu' no more to see her, 
 If I man myself, and flee her. 
 
 Soon I find my efforts vain 
 
 Fore'd to seek her once again. 
 
 She with magic thread has boimd me, 
 
 Tliat defies my strength or skiU, 
 She has divawn a circle round me. 
 
 Holds me fast against my ^A•ill. 
 Cruel maid, her charms enslave me, 
 I must live as she would have me. 
 
 Ah ! how great the change to me ! 
 
 LoYe! wheu vnlt thou set mo fi-ee! 
 
 ! 
 
 i
 
 XILU'S SOIfifiES. 81 
 
 With resistless power why dost thou press me 
 
 Into scenes so bright ? 
 Had I not — good youth — so much to bless me 
 
 In the lonely night ? 
 
 In my little chamber close I fovmd me, 
 
 In the moon's cold beams ; 
 And their quivering light fell softly round me, 
 
 Wliile I lay in dreams. 
 
 And by hours of pui-e, unmingled pleasure, 
 
 AU my di-eams were blest. 
 While I felt her image, as a treasure, 
 
 Deep within my breast. 
 
 Is it I, she at the table places, 
 
 'Mid so many lights? 
 Yes, to meet intolerable faces, 
 
 She her slave invites. 
 
 Ah ! the Spring's fresh fields no longer cheer me, 
 
 Flowers no sweetness bring ; 
 Angel, where thou art, all sweets are near me, — 
 
 Love, Nature, and Spring. 
 
 Whoever reads these songs attentively to himself or better 
 still, sings them with feeling, wiU certaiidy feel a breath of 
 the fulness of those happy hours stealing over him. 
 
 But we will not take leave of that greater, and more bril- 
 liant societj% without adding some further remarks, especially 
 to explain the close of the second poem. 
 
 She, whom I was only accvistomed to see in a simple di'css 
 which was seldom changed, now stood before me on such 
 occasions in all the splendor of elegant fashion, and stiU she 
 was the same. Her usual grace and kindliness of manner 
 remained, only I should say her gift of attracting shone more 
 conspicuous ; — perhaps, because brought into contact with 
 several persons, she seemed called upon to express hejself 
 with more animation, and to exhibit herself on more sides, as 
 various characters approached her. At any rate, I could 
 not deny, on the one hand, that these strangers were amioy- 
 ing to me, while on the other I would not for a great deal 
 have deprived myself of the plcasm-e of witnessing her talents 
 Vol. II. a
 
 8ii TRUTH AXD POETRY; FKO>I :My OWN XIFE. 
 
 for society, and of seeing that she was made for a wider and 
 more general sphere. 
 
 Though covered with ornaments it was still the samci 
 bosom that had opened to me its inmost secrets, and into 
 which I could look as clearly as into my own; they were still 
 the same lips that had so lately described to me the state of 
 things amidst which she had grown up, and had spent her 
 early years. Every look that Ave interchanged, every accom- 
 panying smile, bespoke a noble feeling of mutual intelligence, 
 and I was myseK astonished, here in the crowd, at the secret 
 innocent understanding which existed between us in the most 
 Inmian, the most natural way. 
 
 But with retm-ning spring, the pleasant freedom of the 
 country was to knit stiU closer these relations. Offenbach on 
 the Main showed even then the considerable beginnings of a 
 city, Vv'hich promised to foiin itself in time. Beautiful, and for 
 the times, splendid buildings, were already erected. Of these 
 Uncle Bernard, (to call him by his familiar title) inhabited the 
 largest; extensive factories were adjoining; D'OrviUe, a 
 lively young man of amiable qualities, lived opposite. Con- 
 tiguous gardens and teiTaces, reaching down to the Main, and 
 affording • a free egress in every dii-ection into the lovely siu*- 
 rounding Scenery, put both visitors and residents in excellent 
 humor. The lover coidd not find a more desii-able spot for 
 indulging his feelings. 
 
 I lived, at the house of John Andre, and since I am here 
 forced to mention this man, who afterwards made himself 
 well enough known, I must indulge in a short digression, in 
 order to give some idea of the state of the Opera at that 
 time. 
 
 In Frankfort, Marchand was director of the theati-e, and 
 exerted liimself in his own person to do all that was possible. 
 In his best years he had been a fine, large well-niade man. the 
 easy and gentle qualities appeared to predominate in his cha- 
 racter; his presence on the stage, therefore, was agreeable 
 enough. He had perhaps as much voice as M-as reqnired for 
 the execution of any of the musical works of that day ; accor- 
 dingly he endeavoured to adapt to our stage the large and 
 smaller French operas. 
 
 The part of tlac i'ather in Gretry's opera of " Beauty anJ 
 the Beast," particularly suited him and his acting was quitj
 
 ANDKE-EAYALC — EUKGEK's XEOXOKE. 83 
 
 expressive in the scene of the Vision which was contrived at 
 the back of the stage. 
 
 This opera, successful in its way, approached, however the 
 lofty style, and was calculated to excite the tenderest feelings. 
 On the other hand a Demon of Realism had got possession of 
 the opera-house ; operas founded upon different crafts and 
 classes were brought out. The Huntsmen, the Coopers, and I 
 know not what else, were produced ; Andre chose the Potter. 
 He had WTitten the words himself, and upon that part of the 
 text which belonged to him, had laxished liis whole musical 
 talent. 
 
 I was lodging with him, and will only say so much as occa- 
 sion demands of this ever ready poet and composer. 
 
 He Avas a man of an innate lively talent and was settled at 
 Ofifenbach, where he properly can-ied on a mechanical busines 
 and manufacture ; he floated between the chapel-master (or 
 Precentor) and the dilettante. In the hope of meriting the 
 former title, he toiled very earnestly to gain a thorough 
 knowledge of the science of music ; in the latter character he 
 was inclined to repeat his own compositions without end. 
 
 Among the persons who at this time were most active in 
 filling and enlivening our circle, the pastor Ewald must be 
 first named. In society an intellectual agreeable companion, 
 he still carried on in jn'ivate quietly and diligently the 
 studies of his profession, and in fact afterwards honoui-ably 
 distinguished liimself in the province of theology. Ewald in 
 .short was an indispensable member of our circle, being quick 
 alike of comprehension and reply. 
 
 LiUi's pianoforte-playing completely fettered our good 
 Andre to our society ; what with instructing, conducting, and 
 executing, there were few hom-s of the day or night in 
 which he was not either in the family circle or at om- social 
 parties. 
 
 Burger's " Leonore," then but just published, and received 
 with enthusiasm by the Germans, had been set to music by 
 by him; this piece he was always forward to execute however 
 often it might be encored. 
 
 I too, who was in the habit of repeating pieces of poetry 
 with animation, was always ready to recite it. Our friends 
 at this time did not get weary of the constant repetition of 
 the same thing. When the company had their choice 
 
 G 2
 
 S4 -IRUTH AKD poetky; fkom mt own life. 
 
 ■which of us they would rather hear, the decision was often la 
 my fovour. 
 
 All this (however it might be) seiTed to prolong the inter- 
 course of the lovers. They knew no bounds, and between them 
 both they easily managed to keep the good John Andi-e con- 
 tinually in motion, that by repetitions he might make his 
 music last till midnight. The two lovers thus secured for 
 themselves, a precious and indispensable opportunity. 
 
 If we walked out early in the morning, we found ourselves 
 in the freshest air, but not precisely in the country. Impos- 
 ing buildings, which at that time woidd have done honor to a 
 city ; gardens, spreading before us and easily overlooked, witli 
 their smooth flower and ornamental beds; a clear prospect 
 commanding the opposite banks of the river, over whose 
 sm-face even at an early hour might be seen floating a busy 
 line of rafts or nimble market-skiffs and boats — these toge- 
 ther formed a gently gliding, li\'ing world, in hai-mony with 
 love's tender feelings. Even the lonely rippling of the waves 
 and rustling of the reeds in a softly flowing stream was highly 
 refreshing, and never failed to thi'ow a decidedly tranquilliz- 
 ing spell over those who approached the spot. A clear sky 
 of the finest season of the year overarched the whole, and 
 most pleasant was it to renew morning after morning her dear 
 society, in the midst of such scenes I 
 
 Should such a mode of life seem too iiTegular, too trivial to 
 the earnest reader, let him consider that between -what is here 
 brovight closely together for the sake of a convenient order, 
 there intervened whole days and weeks of renunciation, other 
 engagements and occupations, and indeed an insupportable 
 tedium. 
 
 Men and women Avere busily engaged in their spheres Oi 
 duty. I, too, oiit of regard for the present and the futvire, 
 delayed not to attend to all my obligations ; and I found time 
 enough to finish that to which my talent and my passion 
 iiTCsistlbly impelled me. 
 
 The earliest horns of the morning I devoted to poetry; the 
 middle of the day M'as assigned to worldly business, which 
 was handled in a manner quite peculiar. My father, a 
 thorough and indeed finished jurist, managed himself such 
 business as arose from the care of his own projierty, and a 
 connexion with highly valued friends j for although his
 
 MY WOKLDLY AFI'AIBS. 85 
 
 cliaracter as Imperial Councillor did not allow him to practii-c, 
 he was at hand as legal adviser to many a friend, while the 
 papers he had prepared were signed by a regular advocate, 
 Avho received a consideration for every such signature. 
 
 This activity of his had now become more lively since 
 my retm-n, and I could easily remark, that he prized my 
 Ittlent higher than my practice, and on that account did what 
 he couldto leave me time for my poetical studies and produc- 
 tions. Sound and thoroughly apt, but slow of conception 
 and execution, he studied the papers as private ReferendariuSy 
 and when wc came together, he would state the case, and left 
 mc to work it out, in which I shewed so much readiness, that 
 he felt a father's purest joy, and once could not refrain from 
 declaring, " that, if I were not of his own blood, he should 
 en\-y mc." 
 
 To lighten our work we had engaged a scribe whose cha- 
 racter and individuality, Avell worked out, would have helped 
 to adorn a romance. After his school-years, which had been 
 profitably spent, and in which he had become fully master ol 
 Latin, and acquired some other useful branches of knowledge, 
 a dissipated academic life had brought trouble oii the remain- 
 der of his days. lie dragged on a wretched existence for a 
 ' time in sickness and in poverty, till at last he contrived to 
 improve his circumstances by the aid of a fine hand-writing 
 and a readiness at accounts. Employed by some advocates, 
 he gradually acquired an accurate knowledge of the formali- 
 ties of legal business, and by his faitlifulncss and punctuality 
 made every one he served his patron. He had been fre- 
 quently employed by our family, and was always at hand in 
 . matters of law and account. 
 
 He also was an useful assistant in our continually increas- 
 ing business, which consisted not only of law matters, but 
 also of various sorts of commissions, orders and transit agen- 
 cies. In the council-house he knew all the passages and 
 windings ; in his M'ay, he was in tolerable favor at both bur- 
 gomasters' audiences ; and since, from his first entrance into 
 office, and even during the times of liis equivocal behavior, he 
 had been Avell acquainted with many of the new senators, 
 some of whom had quickly risen to the dignity of Schojfcn, he 
 had acquired a certain confidence, which might be called a 
 sort of influence. All this he knew how to tm-n to the
 
 86 TEUTH AND POEXKT ; FROit MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 advantage of his patrons, and since the state of his health 
 forced him to limit his application to writing, he was always- 
 found ready to execute every commission or order with care. 
 
 His presence was not disagreeable ; he was slender in per- 
 son and of regular features; his mamier was unobtrusive, 
 though a certain expression betrayed his conviction that he 
 knew all what Avas necessarj- to be done ; moreover, he was 
 cheerful and dexterous in clearing away difficulties. He 
 must have been full forty, and (to say the same thing oyer 
 again), I regi-et that I have never introduced him as the main- 
 spring in the machineiy of some novel. 
 
 Hoping that my more serious readers are now somewhat 
 satisfied by what I have just related, I will venture to turn 
 again to that bright point of tirie, when love and friendship 
 shone in their fau-est light. 
 
 It was in the nature of such social circles that all bu'th- 
 days should be carefully celebrated, -vvith every variety of 
 rejoicing; it was in honor of the bii-th-day of the pastor 
 Ewald, that the following song was written : — 
 
 WTien mot in glad communion, 
 
 When warm'd by love and wine, 
 To sing this song in imion. 
 
 Our voices we'll combine, 
 Through God, who first united, 
 
 Together we remain : 
 ITie flame which once He lighted, 
 
 He now revives again. 
 
 Since this song has been preserved untU this day, and 
 there is scarcely a merry party at which it is not joyfully 
 reAived, we commend it also to aU that shall come after us, 
 and to all who sing it or recite it we wish the same delight 
 and inward satisfaction which we then had, when we had no 
 thought of any wider world, but felt ourselves a world to 
 ourselves in that narrow cii'cle. 
 
 It will, of com-se, be expected -that Lilli's birth-day, which, 
 on the 23rd June, 1775, returned for the seventeenth time, 
 was to be celebrated with peculiar honours. She had pro- 
 mised to come to Offenbach at noon; and I must observe that 
 our friends, with a happy imanimit)', had laid aside all 
 customary compliments at this festival, and had prepared
 
 PLOT OF "she comes NOT. 8/ 
 
 for her reception and entertainment notliing but such heartfelt 
 tokens, as were worthy of her. 
 
 Busied with such pleasant duties, I saw the sun go do'vvn, 
 nnnoimcing a bright day to follow, and promising its glad 
 beaming presence at om- feast, when Lilli's brother, George, 
 who knew not how to dissemble, came somewhat rudely into 
 the chamber, and, without sparing om- feehngs, gave us to 
 imderstand that to-morrow's intended festival was put off; 
 he himself could not tell how, or why, but his sister had bid 
 lum say that it would be M-hoUy impossible for her to come 
 to Offenbach at noon that day, and take part in the intended 
 festival; she had no hope of arriving before evening. She 
 knew and felt most sensibly how vexatious and disagi-eeable 
 it must be to me and all her friends, but she begged me very 
 earnestly to invent some expedient which might soften and 
 perhaps do away the unpleasant effects of this news, which 
 she left it to me to announce. If I could, she would give me 
 her warmest thanks. 
 
 I was silent for a moment, but I quickly recovered myself, 
 and, as if by heavenly inspiration, saw what was to be done. 
 "Make haste, George I"' I cried; "teU her to make herself 
 easy, and do her best to come towards evening; I promise 
 that this very disappointment shall be turned into a cause of 
 rejoicing!" The boy was cuiious, and wanted to know how? 
 I refused to gTatify his curiosit^% notwithstanding that he 
 called to his aid all the arts and all the influence which a 
 brother of our beloved can prcsvune to exercise. 
 
 No sooner had he gone, than I walked up and down in my 
 chamber mth a singidar self-satisfaction; and, with tlie glad, 
 free feehng that here was a brilliant opportunity of proving 
 myself her devoted servant, I stitched together several sheets 
 of paper with beautiful silk, as suited alone such an occasional 
 poem, and hastened to AVTite down the title : 
 
 "She Comes Not! 
 
 " A Moumfid Family Piece, which, by the sore visitation of 
 Divine Providence, will be represented in the most natm'al 
 manner on the 23rd of June, 1775, at Otfenbach-on-the- 
 Maine. The action lasts from morning until evening." 
 
 I have not by me either the original or a copy of this jeu
 
 88 TRUTH AXD POETE-y; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 (Vesjmt; I have often inquired after one, but have never 
 been able to get a trace of it ; I must therefore compose it 
 ancv,% a thing M'hich, in the general way, is not difficult. 
 
 The scene is at D"Orvillc"s house and garden in Offenbach; 
 the action opens T\'ith the domestics, of whom each one plays 
 his special part, and evident preparations for a festival are 
 being made.* The children, dra^\^l to the life, nm in and out 
 among them; the master appears and the mistress, actively 
 discharging her appropriate functions; then, in the midst of 
 the hm-ry and bustle of active preparation comes in neigh- 
 bour Hans Andi-e, the indefatigable composer ; he seats him- 
 self at the piano, and calls them all together to hear him try 
 his new song, which he has just finished for the festival. He 
 gathers round him the whole house, but aU soon disperse 
 again to attend to pressing duties; one is called away by 
 another, this person Avauts the help of that; at last, the 
 arriA'al of the gardener draws attention to the preparations in 
 the grounds and on the water ; wi-eaths, banners with orna- 
 mental inscriptions, in short, nothing is forgotten. 
 
 WTiile they are all assembled around the most attractive 
 objects, in steps a messenger, who, as a sort of humorous go- 
 between, was also entitled to play his part, and who although 
 he has had plenty of drink-money, could still pretty shrewdly 
 guess what was the state of the case. He sets a high value on 
 his packet, demands a glass of mne and a wheaten roll, and 
 after some roguish hesitation hands over his despatches. The 
 master of the house lets his arms drop, the papers fall to the 
 floor, he calls out : " Let mc go to the table ! let me go to the 
 bureau that I may brush.''' 
 
 The spu-ited intercourse of -^-ivacious persons is chiefly 
 distingiiished by a certain sjTiibolical style of speech and 
 gestm'c. A sort of conventional idiom arises, which, while it 
 makes the initiated very happy, is unobserved by the stranger, 
 or, if observed, is disagi-eeable. 
 
 Among Lilli's most j^leasing particularities was the one 
 which is here expressed by the vrord hrushing, and which 
 manifested itself whenever anything disagreeable was said or 
 told, especially when she sat at table, or was near any flat 
 surface. 
 
 It had its origin in a most fascinating but odd expedient, 
 which she once had recourse to when a stranger, sitting near
 
 89 
 
 her at tabic, uttered somcthin"; unseemlv. Without alterins 
 her mild coimtenance, she brushed with her right hand, most 
 prettily, across tjie table-cloth, and deliberately pushed off 
 on to the floor everything she reached with this gentle motion. 
 I know not what did not fall: — knives, forks, bread, salt- 
 cellar, and also something belonging to her neighbour; every 
 one Avas startled; the servants ran up, and no one knew what 
 it all meant, except the observing ones, who were delighted 
 that she had rebuked and checked an impropriety in so pretty 
 a manner. 
 
 Here now Avas a s^Tiibol found to express the repulsion of 
 anj-thing disagreeable, Avhich still is frequently made use of 
 in clever, hearty, estimable, well-meaning, and not thoroughly 
 polished society. We all adopted the motion of the right 
 hand as a sign of reprobation; the actual brusliing away of 
 objects was a thing which afterwards she herself indulged in 
 only moderately and with good taste. 
 
 When, therefore, the poet gives to the master of the house, 
 as a piece of dimib shew, this desu-e for brushing, (a habit 
 which had become with us a second nature,) the meaning and 
 effect of the action and its tendency, arc at once appai'ent; 
 for while he threatens to sweep everj-thing from all flat sur- 
 faces, eveiybody tries to hinder him, and to pacify him, till 
 finally he thi-ows himself exliausted on a seat. 
 
 "What has happened?" all exclaim. "Is she sick? Is 
 any one dead?" "Read! read!" cries D'Orville, "there it 
 lies on the groimd." The despatch is picked up; they read 
 it, and exclaim : She comes not! 
 
 The gToat ten-or had prepared them for a greater; — but 
 she was well — nothing had happened to her ! no one of the 
 family was hm-t; hope pointed still to the evening. 
 
 Andre, Avho in the meanwhile had kept on with his music, 
 came running up at last, consoling and seeking consolation. 
 Pastor Ewald and his Avife likewise came in quite character- 
 istically, disappointed and yet reasonable, sorry for the dis- 
 appointment and yet quietly accepting all for the best. Every- 
 thing now is at sixes and sevens, until the calm and exemplaiy 
 uncle Bernard finally approaches, expecting a good breakfast 
 and a conrfortable dinner ; and he is the only one who sees the 
 matter from the right point of \-iew. He, by reasonable 
 speeches, sets all to rights, just as in the Greek tragedy a god
 
 90 TKUTK AND POEXKT ; FROM MT OWN LIFE. 
 
 manages ■n-itli a few words to clear up tlie perplexities of the 
 greatest heroes. 
 
 Dashed off "currente calamo," it was yet late at night 
 before I had finished it and given it to a messenger with 
 instructions to deliver it the next morning in Offenbach, pre- 
 cisely at ten o'clock. 
 
 Next day when I awoke, it was one of the brightest 
 mornings possible, and, I set off just in time to arrive at 
 Offenbach, as I purposed, precisely at noon. 
 
 I was received with the strangest charivari of salutations ; 
 the interiaipted feast was scai'cely mentioned; they scolded 
 and rated me, because I had taken them off so well. The 
 domestics were contented mth being introduced on the same 
 stage with theii- superiors; only the children, those most 
 decided and indomitable realists, obstinately insisted that 
 they had not talked so and so, that eveiything in fact went 
 quite difibrently from the way in which it there stood written. 
 I appeased them by some foretastes of the supper-table, and 
 they loved me as much as* ever. A cheerful dinner-party, 
 with some though not aU of om- intended festivities, put us in 
 the mood of receiving Lilli with less splendor, but perhaps the 
 more affectionately. She came, and was welcomed by cheer- 
 ful, nay, merry faces, surprised to find that her staying away 
 had not marred all our cheerfulness. They told her every- 
 thing, they laid the whole thing before her, and she, in her 
 dear sweet way, thanked me as only she could thank. 
 
 It required no remarkable acuteness to perceive, that her 
 absence from the festival in her honor was not accidental, but 
 had been caused by gossiping about the intimacy between us. 
 However, this had not the slightest influence either on our 
 sentiments or our behavior. 
 
 At this season of the year there never failed to be a varied 
 throng of visitors from the city. Frequently I did not join 
 the company imtil late in the evening, when I fomid her 
 apparently sympathizing; and since I commonly appeared 
 only for a few hours, I was glad of an opportunity to be 
 useful to her in any way, by attending to or imdertaking 
 some commission, whether trifling or not, in her behalf. 
 And indeed this service is the most delightful which a man 
 can enter upon, as the old romances of cliivaby contrive how 
 to intimate in their obscure, but powerful manner. That she
 
 INTIMACY WITH LILT.I. 91 
 
 ruled over me, was not to be concealed, and this pride she 
 might well allow herself; for in this contest the victor and 
 the vanquished both triumph, and enjoy an equal glory. 
 
 This my repeated, though often brief cooperation, was 
 always so much the more effective. John Andi-e had always 
 store of music ; I contributed new pieces either by others or 
 myself; so that poetical and musical blossoms showered down 
 upon us. It was altogether a brilliant time ; a certain excite- 
 ment reigned in the company, and there were no insipid 
 moments. Without further question it seemed to be com- 
 municated to all the rest. For where inclination and passion 
 come out in their own bold natm-c, they encourage timid 
 souls, who cannot comprehend why they shoidd suppress their 
 equally valid rights. Hence relations, which hitherto were 
 more or less concealed, wore nov,- seen to intertwine them- 
 selves Avithout reserve ; while others, which did not confess 
 themselves so openly, still glided on agi-eeably in the shade. 
 
 If, because of my multifarious avocations, I could not pass 
 whole days out of doors with her, yet the clear evenings gave 
 us opportunity for prolonged meetings in the open air. 
 LoAing souls Avill be pleased to read the following event. 
 
 Oui-s was a condition of which it stands written : " I sleep, 
 but my heart wakes; " the bright and the dark hours were 
 alike; the light of the day could not outshine the light of 
 love, and the night was made as the brightest day by the 
 radiance of passion. 
 
 One clear starlight evening we had been walking about in 
 the open country till it was quite late; and after I had seen 
 her and her friends home to their several doors, and finally 
 had taken leave of her, I felt so little inclined to sleep that I 
 did not hesitate to set off on another ramble. I took the 
 highroad to Franldbrt, giving myself up to my thoughts and 
 hopes ; here I seated myself on a bench, in the purest still- 
 ness of night, under the gleaming starry heavens, that I might 
 belong only to myself and her. 
 
 My attention . was attracted by a sound quite near me, 
 which I could not explain; it was not a rattling, nor a 
 rustling noise, and on closer observation I discovered that it 
 was under the ground, and caused by the working of some 
 little animal. It might be a hedge-hog, or a weasel, or what- 
 ever creatui'c labors in that wav at such hours.
 
 92 TKUTH AXD POETKY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Having set off again towards the city and got near to the 
 Roderberg, I recognised, by their chalk-white gleam, the 
 steps which lead up to the -vineyards. I ascended them, sat 
 do'v\ni, and fell asleep. 
 
 When I awoke, the twilight had akeady dawned, and I 
 found myself opposite the high wall, which in earlier times 
 had been erected to defend the heights on this side. Saxen- 
 hausen lay before me, light mists marked out the course of 
 the river; it was cool, and to me most welcome. 
 
 There I waited till the sun, rising gradually behind me, 
 lighted up the opposite landscape. It was the spot where I 
 was affaiu to see mv beloved, and I retm-ned slowlv back to 
 the paradise which sun-ouuded her yet sleeping. 
 
 On accoimt of my increasing cii'cle of business, which, 
 from love to her, I was anxious to extend and to establish, 
 my %4sits to Offenbach became more rare, and hence arose a 
 somewhat painful predicament; so that it might well be 
 remarked, that, for the sake of the futui-e, one postpones and 
 loses the present. 
 
 As my prospects Avere now gradually improving, I took 
 them to be more promising than they really Avere, and I 
 thought the more about coming to a speedy explanation, since 
 so public an intimacy could not go on much longer without 
 misconstruction. And, as is usual in such cases, Ave 4id not 
 expressly say it to one another; but the feeling of being 
 mutually pleased in every way, the full conviction that a 
 separation Avas impossible, the confidence reposed in one 
 another, — all this produced such a seriousness, that I, who 
 had firmly resoh'ed never again to get invoh'ed in any 
 troublesome connexion of the kind, and who found myself, 
 nevertheless, entangled in this, Avithout the certainty of a 
 favorable result, was actually beset Avith a heaviness of mind, 
 to get rid of Avhich I plimged more and more in indifferent 
 Avorldly affairs, from Avhich apart fi-om my beloved I had no 
 care to derive either profit or pleasm-e. 
 
 In this strange situation, the like of Avhich many, no doubt, 
 have Avith pain experienced, there came to our aid a femrde 
 fi-ieiid of the family, who saAV tlu-ough characters and situa- 
 tions very clearly. She Avas called Mademoiselle Delf ; she 
 presided Avith her elder sister oA-er a little business in Heidel- 
 berg, and on several occasions had received many faA'ors from
 
 A BETEOTHAL. 93 
 
 the <n*eater Frankfort coraniisslon-lioiise. She had known 
 and loved Lilli from her youth; she was quite a peculiar 
 person, of an earnest, masculine look, and with an even, firm 
 hasty step. She had had peculiar reason to adapt herself to 
 the world, and hence she imderstood it, in a certain sense at 
 least. She cotild not be called intriguing; she was accus- 
 tomed to consider distant contingencies, and to cany out her 
 plans in silence : but then she had the gift of seeing an oppor- 
 tunity, and if she found people wavering betwixt doubt and 
 resolution, at the moment when everything depended upon 
 decision, she skilfully contrived to infuse into their minds 
 such a force of character, that she seldom failed to accomplish 
 her purpose. Properly speaking she had no selfish ends; to 
 have done anything, to have completed anything, especially 
 to have brought about a marriage, was reward enough for 
 her. She had long since seen thi'ough our position, and, in 
 repeated visits, had carefully .obsei-vcd the state of affairs, so 
 that she had finally convinced herself that the attachment 
 must be favored ; that our plans, honestly but not very skil- 
 fully taken in hand and prosecuted, must be promoted, and 
 that this little romance be brought to a close as speedily as 
 possible. 
 
 For many years she had enjoyed the confidence of Lilli's 
 mother. Introduced by me to my parents, she had managed 
 to make herself agreeable to them; for her rough sort of 
 manner is seldom offensive in an imperial city, and backed by 
 cleverness and tact, is even welcome. She knew very well 
 our wishes and our hopes ; her love of meddling made her 
 see in all this a caU upon her good offices ; in short she had 
 a conversation with om* parents. .How she commenced it, 
 how she put aside the difficidties which must have stood in 
 her way, I know not ; but she came to us one evening and 
 bro ght the consent. "Take each other by the hand! " cried 
 she, in her pathetic yet commanding manner. I stood 
 opposite to Lilli and offered her my hand; she, not indeed 
 hesitatingly, but still slowly, placed hers in it. After a long 
 and deep breath we fell with lively emotion into each other's 
 arms. 
 
 It Avas a strange degree of the overruling Providence, that 
 in the course of my singular history, I should also have 
 experienced the feelings of one who is betrothed.
 
 94 
 
 I may ventin-e to assert, that for a truly moral man it is the 
 pleasantest of all recollections. It is delightful to recall those 
 feelings, which are with difficulty expressed and are hardly 
 explained. For him the state of things is all at once changed; 
 the shai-pest oppositions are removed, the most inveterate dif- 
 ferences are adjusted ; prompting natm-e, ever warning reason, 
 the tyrannizing impulses, and the sober law, which before kept 
 up a pei-petual strife within us, all are now reconciled in 
 friendly imit\% and at the festival, so universally celebrated 
 with solemn rites, that which was forbidden is commanded, and 
 that wliich was penal is raised to an inviolable duty. 
 
 The reader will leam with moral approval that from this 
 time forward a certain change took place in me. If my 
 beloved had hitherto been looked upon as beautiful, gi-aceftd, 
 and attractive, now she appeared to me a being of superior 
 worth and excellence. She was as it were a double person : 
 her gi-ace and loveliness belonged to me, — that I felt as for- 
 merly; but the dignity of her character, her self-reliance, her 
 confidence in all persons remaiaed her own. I beheld it, I 
 looked through it, I was delighted -with it as with a capital 
 of which I should enjoy the interest as long as I lived. 
 
 There is depth and significance in the old remark : on the 
 sxmimit of fortune one abides not long. The consent of the 
 parties on both sides, so gained in such a peculiar manner by 
 Demoiselle Dclf, was now ratified silently and without fm-ther 
 formaUty. But as soon as we beHeve the matter to be all 
 settled — as soon as the ideal, as we may weU caU it, of a 
 beti'othal is over, and it begins to pass into the actual and to 
 enter soberly into facts, then too often comes a crisis. The 
 outward world is utterly unmercifal, and it has reason, for it 
 must maintain its authority at all costs: the confidence of 
 passion is very great, and we see it too often wTCcked upon 
 the rocks of opposing realities. A yoimg married couple who 
 enter upon life, improvided with sufficient means, can pro- 
 mise themselves no honey-moon, especially in these latter 
 times ; the world immediately presses upon them %vith incom- 
 patible demands, which, if not satisfied, make the yoimg 
 couple appear ridiculous. 
 
 Of the insufficiency of the means which for the attainment 
 of my end, I had anxiously scraped together, I covdd not 
 before be aware, because they had held out up to a certain
 
 THE EEALITIES OF LIFE. 96 
 
 point; but now the end was di-amng nearer, I saw that 
 matters were not quite what they ought to be. 
 
 The fallacy, which passion finds so convenient, was now 
 exposed in all its inconsistency. My house, my domestic 
 circumstances, had to be considered in all their details, with 
 some soberness. The consciousness, that his house would one 
 day contain a daughter-in-law, lay indeed at the bottom of my 
 father's design; but then what sort of a lady did he con- 
 template ? 
 
 At the end of om- third part, the reader made the ac- 
 quaintance of the gentle, dear, intelligent, beautiful, and 
 talented maiden, so always like herself, so afiectionate, and 
 yet so free from passion ; she was a fitting key-stone to the 
 .'ircli already built and curved. But here, upon calm unbiassed 
 consideration, it could not be denied that, in order to estabhsh 
 the newly acquired treasure in such a function, a new arch 
 woidd have to be built! 
 
 However this had not yet become clear to me, and still less 
 was it so to her mind. But now when I tried to foncy myself 
 bring-ing her to my home, she did not seem somehow to suit 
 it exactly. It appeared to me something like what I had 
 myself experienced, when I first joined her social cii-cle : in. 
 order to give no offence to the fashionable people I met there, 
 I found it necessary to make a gi-eat change in my stvle of 
 dress. But this could not be so easily done with the domestic 
 arrangement of a stately burgher's house, which, rebuilt in 
 the olden style, had with its antique ornaments, given an old- 
 fasliioned character to the habits of its inmates. 
 
 Moreover, even after our parents" consent had been gained, 
 it • had not been possible to establish friendly relations or 
 intercourse between our respective families. DiflPerent reli- 
 gious o])inions produced different manners; and if the amiable 
 gii-1 had wished to continue in any way her former mode of 
 fife, it woxdd have found neither opportimity nor place in our 
 moderate-sized house. 
 
 If I had never thought of all this until now, it was because 
 I had been quieted by the opening of fine pros-jiccts from with- 
 out, and the hope of getting some valuable appointment. An 
 active spirit gets a footing cveiywherc: capacities, talents 
 create confidence ; every one thinks that a change of manage- 
 ment is all that is needed. The earnestness of youth finds
 
 96 TEUTH AXD POETili ; FKOJI MY OWX LIFE. 
 
 fevouv, genius is trusted for cverj-tliing, though its power is 
 only of d certain kind. 
 
 The intellectual and literary domain of Germany \yas at 
 that time regarded as but newly broken groimd. Among the 
 business-people there were prudent men, who desired skilful 
 cvdtivators and prudent managers for the fields abovxt to be 
 tiuTied lip. Even the respectable and well established Free- 
 JVIason's lodge, with the most distinguished members of which 
 I had become acquainted through my intimacy with Lilli, con- 
 trived in a suitable manner to get me introduced to them ; 
 but I, from a feeling of independence, which afterwards 
 appeared to me madness, declined all closer connection with 
 them, not perceiving that these men, though abeady bound 
 together in a higher sense, would yet do much to further my 
 own ends, so nearly related to theirs. 
 
 I retm-n to more personal matters. 
 
 In such cities as Frankfort, men often hold several situa- 
 tions together, such as residentships, and agencies, the number 
 of which may by diligence be indefinitely increased. Something 
 of this sort now occui-red to me, and at first sight it seemed 
 both advantageous and honorable. It was assimied that I 
 should suit the place; and it would, under the conditions, 
 certainly have succeeded, if it coidd have commanded the 
 co-operation of the Chancery triad ah-eady described. We 
 thus suppress our doubts ; we dwell only on what is favorable ; 
 by powerful activity we overcome all wavering; whence there 
 results a something untrue in our position, without the force 
 of passion being in the least subdued. 
 
 In times of peace there is no more interesting reading for 
 the multitude than the public papers, which furnish early 
 information of the latest doings in the world. The quiet opu- 
 lent citizen exercises thus in an innocent way a party spirit, 
 ■which in our finite nature we neither can nor should get rid of. 
 Every comfortable person thus gets up a factitious interest, 
 like that which is often felt in a bet, experiences an imreal 
 gain or loss, and as in the theatre, feels a very lively, though 
 imaginary sympathy in the good or evil fortune of others. 
 This sympathy seems often arbitraiy, but it rests on moral 
 grounds. For now we give to praiseworthy designs the ap- 
 plause they deserve ; aad now again, cai-ried away by brilliant
 
 I 
 
 AMEFvICAX HT.XQJ.VTloy. 97 
 
 •successes, we turn to those whoso j)lans we should otherwise 
 have blamed. For all this there was abundant material in 
 those times. 
 
 Frederic the Second, resting on his victories, seemed to 
 hold in his hand the fate of Europe and the world; Catherine, 
 a great woman, who had proved herself every way worthy of 
 a throne, afforded ample sphere of action to able and highly 
 gifted men, in extending tlic dominion of their Empress ; and 
 a-s this was done at the expense of the Tm-ks, whom we are in 
 the habit of richly repajnug for the contempt with which they 
 look doMm upon us. it seemed as if it was no sacrifice of human 
 life, when these infidels were slain by thousands. The burn- 
 ing of the fleet in the harbor of Tschesme, caused a universal 
 jubilee throughovxt the civilized world, and every one shared 
 the exultation of a victory, when, in order to px'cserve a faith- 
 ful picture of that great event, a ship of war was actually 
 blown up on the roads of LiA'orno, before the studio of an 
 artist. Not long after this, a young northern king, to esta- 
 blish his own authority, seized the reins of government, out of 
 the hands of an oligarchy. The aristocrats whom he overthrew 
 were not lamented, for aristocracy finds no favor with the 
 pubhc, since it is in its nature to work in silence, and it is the 
 more secure the less talk it creates about itself; and in this 
 case the people thought all the better of the young king, since 
 in order to balance the enmity of the higher ranks, he was 
 obliged to favor the lower, and to conciliate their good 
 will. 
 
 The lively interest of the world was still more excited 
 when a whole people prepared to effect their independence. 
 Already had it witnessed a welcome spectacle of the same 
 <iffoTt on a small scale : Corsica had long been the point to 
 to which all eyes were directed; Paoli, when despairing of 
 ever being able to cany out his patriotic designs, he passed 
 through Germany to England, attracted and won all hearts ; 
 he was a fine man, slender, fair, full of grace and friendli- 
 ness. I saw liim in the house of Bethmann, where he stopped 
 a short time, and received with cheerful cordiality the curious 
 A'isitors who thronged to see him. But now similar events 
 were to be repeated in a remote quarter of the globe; we 
 wished the Americans all success, and the names of Franklin 
 and Washington began to shine and sparkle in the firmament 
 Vol. II. „
 
 98 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 of politics and war. Much had been accomplished to improve 
 the condition of humanity, and now, when in France, a new 
 and benevolent sovereign evinced the best intentions of devot- 
 ing himself to the removal of so many abuses and to the 
 noblest ends, — of introducing a regular and efficient system of 
 political economy, — of dispensing with all arbitrary power and 
 of ruling alone by law and justice ; the brightest hopes spread 
 over the world, and confident youth promised itself and to all 
 mankind a bright and noble futui'e. 
 
 In aU these events, however, I only took pai't so far as they 
 interested society in general; I myself and my immediate 
 circle did not meddle with the news of the day ; our affair was 
 to study men; men in general we allowed to have their way. 
 
 The quiet position of the German Fatherland, to which also 
 my native city had now conformed for upwards of a hundred 
 years, had been fully preserved in spite of many wars and con- 
 vulsions. A highly varied gradation of ranks, which, instead 
 of holding the several classes apart, seemed to bind them the 
 more closely together, had promoted the interest of aU, from 
 the highest to the lowest — ^from the Emperor to the Jew. If 
 the sovereign princes stood in a subordinate relation to the 
 Emperor, still their electoral rights and immunities thereby 
 acquired and maintained, Avere a frill compensation. More- 
 over, the highest nobility belonged exclusively to the Agnates 
 of the royal houses, so that in the enjoyment of their distin- 
 guished pri\dleges, they coidd look upon themselves as equal 
 with the highest and even superior to them in some sense, 
 since, as spiritual electors, they might take precedence of all 
 others, and, as branches of the sacred hierarchy, hold an 
 honorable and uncontested rank. 
 
 If now we think of the extraordinary pri-vdleges which these 
 ancient hoiises enjoyed, not only in their old patrimonial 
 estates, but also in the ecclesiastical endoT\Tnents, the knightly 
 orders, the official administration of the Empire, and the old 
 brotherhoods and alliances for mutual defence and protection, 
 we can vainly conceive that this great body of influencial men 
 feeling themselves at once subordinated to and co-ordinate 
 with the highest, and occupj^ng their days with a regular round 
 of employments, might well be contented with their situation, 
 and would without further anxietj' seek only to secure and trans- 
 mit to their successors the same comforts and prerogatives.
 
 STATE OF GEKMANY. 99 
 
 Nor was this class deficient in intellectual culture. Already for 
 more than a century the decided proofs of high training in 
 military and political science had been discernible in our noble 
 soldiers and diplomatists. But at the same time there were 
 many minds who, through literary and philosophical studies, 
 had amved at views not over favorable to the existing state 
 of things. 
 
 In Germany scarcely any one had as yet learned to look 
 with env-y on that monstrous privileged class, or to grudge its 
 fortimate advantages. The middle class had devoted them- 
 selves imdisturbed to commerce and the sciences, and by 
 these pursuits, as well as by the practice of the mechanic arts, so 
 closely related to them, had raised themselves to a position of 
 importance which fully balanced its political inferiority^ ; the 
 free or half- free cities favom-ed this activity, while individuals 
 felt a certain quiet satisfaction in it. The man who increased 
 his wealth, or enhanced his intellectual influence, especially in 
 matters of law or state, could always be sure of enjoying both 
 respect and authority. In the Supreme Courts of the empire, 
 and indeed in all others, a learned bench stood parallel with the 
 noble ; the uncontrolled oversight of the one managed to keep in 
 harmony with the deepest insight of the other; and experience 
 could never detect a trace of rivalry between them ; the noble 
 felt sccvire in his exclusive and time-hallowed privileges, and 
 the burgher felt it beneath his dignity to strive for a semblance 
 of them by a little prefix to his name.* The merchant, the 
 manufacturer, had enough to do to keep pace with those of 
 other nations in progress and improvement. Leaving out of 
 the account the usual temporary fluctuations, we may certainly 
 say that it was on the whole a time of pure advance, such as 
 had not appeared before, and such as, on account of another 
 and gi-eater progress both of mind and things, could not long 
 continue. 
 
 My position with regard to the higher classes at this time 
 was very favorable. In Werther, to be sure, the disagree- 
 able cu-cumstances which arise just at the bomidary between 
 two distinct positions, were descanted upon with some impa- 
 tience; but this was overlooked in consideration of the gene- 
 
 * The "von" which in Germany those who are ennobled prefix to 
 their surnames. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 TnuTii AXD poetky; fkom my oavn life. 
 
 rally passionate character of the book, since every one felt 
 that it had no reference to any immediate cflFect. 
 
 But Gotz von Berlichingen had set me quite right with 
 the upper classes ; whatever improprieties might be charged 
 upon my earlier literary productions, in this work I had with 
 great learning and much felicity depicted the old German 
 constitution, with its inviolable emperor at the head, with its 
 many degrees of nobiUty, and a knight who, in a time of 
 general lawlessness, had determined as a private man to act 
 uprightly, if not lawfully, and thus fell into a very sorry pre- 
 dicament. This complicated story, however, was not snatched 
 from the air, but fovmded on fact; it was cheerfully, lively, 
 and consequently here and there a little modern, but it was, 
 nevertheless, on the whole, in the same spirit as the brave and 
 capable man had with some degi-ee of skill set it forth in liis 
 own narrative. 
 
 The family stiU flourished; its relation to the Frankish 
 knighthood had remained in all its integrity, althovigh that 
 relation, like many others at that time, might have gi'own 
 somewhat faint and nominal. 
 
 Now all at once the little stream of Jaxt, and the castle of 
 Jaxthausen, acquired a poetical importance ; they, as well as 
 the council-house at Heilbronn, were visited by travellers. 
 
 It was knoA\-n that I had the mind to WTite of other points 
 of that historical period ; and many a family, which could 
 readily deduce its origin from that time, hoped to sec its 
 ancestors brought to the light in the same way. 
 
 A strange satisfaction is generally felt, when a writer feli- 
 citously recalls a nation's history to its recollection; men 
 rejoice in the \irtues of their ancestors, and smile at the fail- 
 ings, which they believe they themselves have long since got 
 rid of. Such a delineation never fails to meet with sjTupathy 
 and applause, and in this respect I enjoyed an envied influence. 
 Yet it may be worth whUe to remark, that among the 
 numerous advances, and in the multitude of young persons 
 who attached themselves to me, there was found no noble- 
 man ; on the other hand, many who had already arrived at 
 the age of thirty sought me and ^^ sited me, and of these the 
 willing and striving were pervaded by a joj'ful hope of 
 eai'nestly developing themselves in a, national and even more 
 universally humane sense.
 
 ULRICH VOX HUTTEX. 
 
 101 
 
 At this time a general curiosity about the epoch between 
 the fifteenth and sixteenth centmy had commenced, and was 
 very lively. The works of Ulkich vox Huttex had fallen 
 into my hands, and I was not a little struck to sec sometliing 
 so similar to what had taken place in his time, again manifest- 
 ing itself in our later days. 
 
 The following letter of Ulrich von Hutten to Billibald Pyrk- 
 heymer, may therefore suitably find place here : — 
 
 " What fortune gives us, it generally takes away again ; and 
 not only that— everything else which accinies to man from 
 without, is, we see, liable to accident and change. And yet, 
 notwithstanding, I am now striving for honor, which I should 
 wish to obtain, if possible, without envy, but still at any cost: 
 for a fiery thii-st for glory possesses me, so that I wish to be 
 ennobled as highly as possible. I should make but a poor 
 figure in my OAvn eyes, dear Billibald, if, born in the rank, in 
 the family I am, and of such ancestors, I could be content to 
 hold myself to be noble, though I never ennobled myself by my 
 own exertions. So great a work have I in my mind! my 
 thoughts are higher ! it is not that I would see myself pro- 
 moted to a more distinguished and more brilliant rank ; but I 
 wovdd fain seek a fountain elsewhere, out of which I might 
 di-aw a pecuhar nobility of my own, and not be counted 
 among the factitious nobiUty, contented with what I have 
 received from my ancestors. On the contrary, I would add 
 to those advantages something of my own, which may, from 
 me, pass over to my posterity. 
 
 "•Therefore, in my studies and my efforts, I proceed in 
 
 opposition to the opinion of those who consider that what 
 
 actually exists is enough ; for to me nothing of that sort is 
 
 enough, according to what I have already confessed to you -of 
 
 my ambition in this respect. And I here avow that I do not 
 
 envy those Avho, starting from the lowest stations, have 
 
 climbed higher than myself; for on this point I by no means 
 
 agree with those of my own rank, who are wont to sneer at 
 
 persons who, of a lower origin, have, by their own talents, 
 
 raised themselves to eminence. For those with perfect right 
 
 are to be preferred to us, who have seized for themselves and 
 
 taken possession of the material of glory, which we ourselves 
 
 neglected ; they may be the sons of fullers or of tanners, but 
 
 they have contrived to attain their ends, by struggling with
 
 102 TKUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 greater difficulties than we ever had against us. The ignorant 
 man, who envies liim who by his knowledge has distinguished 
 himself, is not only to be called a fool, but is to be reckoned 
 among the miserable — indeed among the most miserable ; and 
 with this disease are our nobles especially affected, that they 
 look with an evil eye upon such accomplishments. For what, in 
 God's name ! is it to envy one who possesses that which we have 
 despised? \\Tiy have we not appHed ourselves to the law? 
 why have we not ourselves this excellent learning, the best 
 arts? And now fullers, shoemakers, and wheelwi-ights, go 
 before us. Why have we forsaken our post, why left the 
 most liberal studies to hired servants and (shamefully for us !) 
 to the veiy lowest of the people? Most justly has that inhe- 
 ritance of nobility which we have thi-own away been taken 
 possession of by every clever and diligent plebeian who makes 
 it profitable by its own industry. Wretched beings that we 
 are, who neglect that which suffices to raise the very humblest 
 above us; let us cease to envy, and strive also to obtain 
 what others, to our deep disgi-aco, h^ive claimed for them- 
 selves. 
 
 '- Every longing for gloiy is honorable ; all striving for the 
 excellent is praiseworthy. To every rank may its own honor 
 remain, may its o^vn ornaments be secured to it! Those 
 statues of my ancestors I do not despise any more than the 
 richly endowed pedigree ; but whatever their worth may be, 
 it is not oirrs, unless by our own merits we make it oiirs; nor 
 can it endiu-e, if the nobility do not adopt the habits which 
 become them. In vain will yonder fat and corpulent head of 
 a noble house point to the images of his ancestors, whilst he 
 himself, inactive, resembles a clod rather than those whose 
 virtues throw a halo upon his name from bygone days. 
 
 " So much have I v^dshed most frdly and most frankly to 
 confide to you respecting my ambition and my nature." 
 
 Although, perhaps, not exactly in the same train of ideas, 
 yet the same excellent and strong sentiments had I to hear 
 from my more distinguished friends and acquaintances, of 
 which the results appeared in an honest actixity. It had 
 become a creed, that every one must earn for himself a per- 
 sonal nobility, and if any rivalry appeared in those fine days, 
 it was from above downwards. 
 
 We others, on the contrary, had what we wished; the fi-ee
 
 FEANKFOBT AND ITS CONSTITUTION. 103 
 
 and approved exercise of the talents lent to us by nature, as 
 far as covld consist with all our civil relations. 
 
 For my native city had in this a very peculiar position, and 
 one which has not been enough considered. While of the 
 free imperial cities the northern could boast of an extended 
 commerce, but the southern, declining in commercial import- 
 ance, cultivated the arts and manufactures with more success ; 
 Frankfort on the Main exhibited a somewhat mixed character, 
 combining the results of trade, wealth, and capital, with the 
 passion for learning, and its collection of works of art. 
 
 The Lutheran Confession controlled its government; the 
 ancient lordship of the Ga?i, now bearing the name of the house 
 of Limburg ; the house of Frauenstein, originally only a club, 
 but dm-iag the ti-oubles occasioned by the lower classes, faith- 
 ful to the side of intelligence; the jurist, and others well to 
 do and weU disposed — none was excluded from the magis- 
 tracy; even those mechanics who had upheld the cause of 
 order at a critical time, were eligible to the coimcil, though 
 they were only stationary in their place. The other constitu- 
 tional counterpoises, formal institutions, and Avhatever else 
 belongs to such a constitution, afforded employment to the 
 activity of many persons ; while trade and mamifacture, in so 
 favorable a situation, found no obstacle to their growth and 
 prosperity. 
 
 The higher nobility kept to itself, unenvied and almost un- 
 noticed ; a second class pressing close upon it was forced to be 
 more active; and resting upon old wealthy family founda- 
 tions, sought to distinguish itself by political and legal 
 learning. 
 
 The members of the so-called Reformed persuasion (Cal- 
 vinists) composed, like the refugees in other places, a distin- 
 guished class, and when they rode out in fine equipages on 
 Sundays to their service in Bockenheim, seemed almost to 
 celebrate a sort of triumph over the citizen's party, who had 
 the privilege of going to church on foot in good weather and 
 in bad. 
 
 The Roman Cathohcs were scarcely noticed; but they also 
 were aware of the advantages which the other two confessions 
 had appropriated to themselves.
 
 EIGHTEENTH BOOK. 
 
 Retukning to literary matters, I must bring forward a cir- 
 cumstance which had great influence on the German poetry 
 of this period, and which is especially worthy of remark, be- 
 cause this very influence has lasted through the history of our 
 poetic art to the present day, and mil not be lost even in the 
 future. 
 
 From the earlier times, the Gennans were accustomed to 
 rhyme; it had this advantage in its favour, that one could 
 proceed in a very naive manner, scarcely doing taore than 
 count the syllables. If with the progress of improvement 
 attention began more or less instinctively to be paid also to 
 the sense and signification of the syllables, this was highly 
 piaiseworthy, and a merit which many poets contrived to 
 make their own. The rhyme was made to mark the close of 
 the poetical proposition : the smaller divisions were indicated 
 by shorter lines, and a naturally refined ear began to make 
 proi'ision for variety and gi-ace. But now all at once rhyme 
 was rejected before it was considered that the value of the 
 syllables had net as yet been decided, indeed that it was a 
 difficult thing to decide. Klopstock took the lead. How 
 earnestly he toiled and what he has accomplished is well 
 known. Every one felt the uncertainty of the matter, many 
 did not like to run a risk, and stimulated by this natural ten- 
 dency, they snatched at a poetic prose. Gessner's extremely 
 charming Idylls opened an endless path. Klopstock wrote 
 the dialogue of Hermaiins Schlucht {Hermann's Fight) in 
 prose, as well as Der Tod Adams {The Death of Adam). 
 Through the domestic tragedies as well as the more classic 
 dramas, a style more lofty and more impassioned gained pos- 
 session of the theatre ; while, on the other hand, the Iambic 
 verse of five feet, which the example of the English had 
 spread among us, was reducing poesy to prose. But in gene- 
 ral the demand for rhythm and for rhj-mc could not be 
 silenced. Ramler, though proceeding on vague principles 
 (as he was always severe with respect to his own productions), 
 could not help exercising the same severity upon those of
 
 HANS SACHS. 105 
 
 others. He transfonned prose into verse, altered and im- 
 proved the works of others, by which means he earned little 
 thanks and only confused the matter still more. Those suc- 
 ceeded best who stiU conformed to the old custom of rhyme 
 with a certain observance of syllabic quantity, and who, 
 guided by a natiu-al taste, observed laws though unexpressed 
 and undetermined; as, for example, Wieland, who, although 
 inimitable, for a long time served as a model to more moderate 
 talents. 
 
 But still in any case the practice remained uncertain, and 
 there was no one, even among the best, who might not for the 
 moment have gone astray. Hence the misfortune, that this 
 epoch of our poetic history, so peculiarly rich in genius, pro- 
 duced little which, in its kind, could be pronounced correct ; 
 for here also the time was stirring, advancing, active, and 
 calling for improvement, but not reflective and satisfying its 
 own requii'ements. 
 
 In order, however, to find a fii-m soil on which poetic 
 genius might find a footing, — to discover an element in which 
 they could breathe freely, they had gone back some centuries, 
 where earnest talents were brilliantly prominent amid a 
 chaotic state of things, and thus they made friends with the 
 poetic art of those times. The Minnesingers lay too far from 
 us ; it would have been necessary first to study the language, 
 and that was not our object, we wanted to live and not to 
 learn. 
 
 Hans Sachs, the really masterly poet, was one whom we 
 could more readily sympathise with. A man of true talent, 
 not indeed like the Minnesiiiging knights and courtiers, but a 
 plain citizen, such as we also boasted ourselves to be. A 
 didactic realism suited us, and on many occasions we made 
 use of the easy rhythm, of the readily occurring rhyme. His 
 manner seemed so suitable to mere poems of the day, and to 
 such occasional pieces as we were called upon to write at 
 every hour. 
 
 K important works, which required the attention au'd labor 
 of a year or a whole life, were built, more or less, upon 
 such hazardous grounds on trivial occasions, it may be ima- 
 gined how wantonly all other ephemeral productions took 
 their rise and shape ; for example, the poetical epistles, para-
 
 106 TKUTH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 bles, and invectives of all forms, with which we went on 
 making war within ourselves, and seeks squabbling abroad. 
 
 Of this kind, besides what has already been printed, some- 
 thing, though very little, survives ; it may be laid up some- 
 where. Brief allusions will suffice to reveal to thinking 
 men their origin and purposes. Persons of more than ordi- 
 nary penetration, to whose sight these may hereafter be 
 brought, wiU be ready to observe that an honest purpose lay 
 at the bottom of all such eccentricities. An upright will 
 revolts against presumption, nature against conventionalities, 
 talent against forms, genius with itself, energy against indeci- 
 sion, undeveloped capacity against developed mediocrity ; so 
 that the whole proceeding may be regarded as a skirmish 
 which follows a declaration of war, and gives promise of a 
 violent contest. F'or, strictly considered, the contest is not 
 yet fought out, in these fifty years; it is still going on, only in 
 a liigher region. 
 
 I had, in imitation of an old German puppet play, invented 
 a wild extravaganza, Avhich was to bear the title of Hansiourst's 
 Hochzeit {Jack Pudding's Wedding).'^ The scheme was as 
 follows: — Hanswurst, a rich young farmer and an orphan, 
 has just come of age, and wishes to marry a rich maiden, 
 named Ursel Blandine. Ilis guardian, Kilian Brustflech [Lea- 
 ther apron), and her mother Ursel, are highly pleased with 
 the purpose. Their long-cherished plans, their dearest wishes, 
 are at last fulfilled and gratified. There is not the slightest 
 obstacle, and properly the whole interest turns only upon this, 
 that the young people's ardour for their union is delayed by 
 the necessary arrangements and formalities of the occasion. 
 As prologue, enters the invitcr to the wedding festivities, who 
 proclaims the banns after the traditional fashion, and ends with 
 the rhymes : 
 
 The wedding feast is at the house 
 Of mine host of the Golden Louse. 
 
 To obviate the charge of violating the unity of place, the 
 aforesaid tavern, with its glittering insignia, was placed in the 
 backgromid of the theatre ; but so that all its four sides could 
 
 * Hanswurst is the old German buffoon, whose name answers to the 
 English " Jack Pudding."— Tr.
 
 THE "hanswukst's hochzeit. 107 
 
 be presented to view, by being turned upon a peg ; and as it 
 was moved round, the front scenes of the stage had to midergo 
 corresponding changes. 
 
 In the first act the front of the house facing the street was 
 turned to the audience, with its golden sign magnified as it 
 were by the solar microscope ; in the second act, the side to- 
 wards the garden. The third was towards a little wood ; the 
 foiu-th towards a neighboring lake; which gave rise to a pre- 
 diction that in aftertimes the decorator would have little diffi- 
 culty in carrying a wave over the whole stage up to the 
 prompter's box. 
 
 But all this does not as yet reveal the peculiar interest of 
 the piece. The principal joke which was carried out, even to 
 an absurd length, arose from the fact that the whole dramatis 
 2)erson(e consisted of mere traditional German nick-names, 
 which at once brought out the chai-acters of the indi^aduals, 
 and determined their relations to one another. 
 
 As we would fain hope that the present book will be read 
 aloud in good society, and even in decent family circles, we 
 cannot venture, after the custom of every play-biU, to name 
 our persons here in order, nor to cite the passages in which 
 they most clearly and prominently showed themselves in their 
 true colom-s ; although, in the simplest way possible, lively, 
 roguish, broad allusions, and witty jokes, could not but arise. 
 We add one leaf as a specimen, leaving oiu- editors the liberty 
 of deciding upon its admissibility. 
 
 Cousin Schuft {scamp), through his relationship to the 
 family, was entitled to an invitation to the feast ; no one had 
 anytliing to say against it ; for though he was a thoroughly 
 good-for-nothing fellow, yet there he was, and since he was 
 there, they could not with propriety leave him out ; on such 
 a feast-day, too, they were not to remember that they had 
 occasionally been dissatisfied with him. 
 
 With Master Schurke (biave), it was a still more serious 
 case ; he had, indeed, been useful to the family, when it was 
 to his own profit ; on the other hand, again, he had injured it, 
 perhaps, in this case, also with an eye to his own interests ; 
 perhaps, too, because he found an opportunity. Those who 
 were any ways prudent voted for his admission ; the few who 
 would have excluded him, were out-voted. 
 
 But there was a third person, abovit whom it was still more
 
 108 TKUTH AND POETKY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 difficiilt to decide ; an orderly man in societj', no less than 
 others, obliging, agreeable, useful in many ways ; he had the 
 single failing, that he could not bear his name to be men- 
 tioned, and as soon as he heard it, was instantaneously trans- 
 ported into a heroic fury, like that which the Northmen call 
 Berserker-rage, attempted to kiU all right and left, and in his 
 frenzy hurt others and received hurt liimself; indeed the 
 second act of the piece was brought, through him, to a very 
 perplexed termination. 
 
 Here was an opportunity M^hich I could not allow to pass, 
 for chastising the piratical publisher Macklot. He is intro- 
 duced going about hawking his Macklot wares, and when he 
 hears of the preparation for the wedding, he cannot resist the 
 impidse to go spimging for a dinner, and to stuff his ravening 
 maw at other people's expense. He announces himself; 
 Kilian Brustflech inquires into his claims, but is obliged to 
 refuse him, since it was an understanding that all the guests 
 should be well known public characters, to which recommen- 
 dation the applicant can make no clain. INIaclclot does his 
 best to show that he is as renowned as any of them. But 
 when Kilian Brustflech, as a strict master of ceremonies, 
 shows himself immoveable, the nameless person, who has re- 
 covered from his Berserker-rage at the end of the second act, 
 espouses the cause of his near relative, tlfe book-pirate, so 
 ui'gently, that the latter is finally admitted among the guests. 
 
 About this time the Counts Stolbekg arrived at Frank- 
 fort ; they were on a journey to Switzerland, and wished to 
 make lis a visit. The earliest productions of my dawning 
 talent, which appeared in the Gottingen Museiialmanach, had 
 led to my forming a friendly relation with them, and with all 
 those other young men whose characters and labors arc now 
 well known. At that time rather strange ideas were enter- 
 tained of friendship and love. They applied themselves to 
 nothing more, properly speaking, than a certain vivacity of 
 youth, which led to a mutual association and to an interchange 
 of minds, full indeed of talent but nevertheless uncultivated. 
 Such a mutual relation, which looked indeed like confidence, was 
 mistaken for love, for genuine inclination ; I deceived myself 
 in this as well as others, and have, in more than one way, 
 <uflered from it manv vcars. There is still in existence a
 
 THE SXOLBERGS. 109 
 
 letter of Burger's belonging to that time, from wliicli it may 
 be seen that, among these companions, there was no question 
 about the moral aesthetic. Every one felt himself excited, and 
 thought that he might act and poetize accordingly. 
 
 The brothers amved, bringing Comit Haugwitz with them. 
 They were received by me with open heart, with kindly pro- 
 priety. They lodged at the hotel, but were generally with us 
 at dinner. The first joyous meeting proved highly gratifying ; 
 but troublesome eccentricities soon manifested themselves. 
 
 A singular position arose for my mother. In her ready 
 franJi way, she could carry herself back to the middle age at 
 once, and take the part of Aja with some Lombard or Byzan- 
 tine princess. They called her nothing else but Tian Aja, 
 and she was pleased with the joke ; entering the more hear- 
 tily into the fantasies of youth, as she believed she saw her 
 own portrait in the lady of Gotz von Berlichingen. 
 
 But this could not last long. We had dined together but 
 a few times, when once, after enjoying glass after glass, oxir 
 poetic hatred for tyrants showed itself, and we avowed a 
 thirst for the blood of such villains. My father smiled and 
 shook his head ; my mother had scarcely heard of a tp-ant in 
 her life, however she recollected having seen the copper-plate 
 engraving of such a monster in Gottfried's Clironicles, viz.. 
 King Cambyses, whom he describes as having shot with an 
 arrow the little son of an enemy through the heart, and boast- 
 ing of his deed to the father's face ; this still stood in her 
 memory. To give a cheerful turn to the conversation which 
 continually grew more violent, she betook herself to her 
 cellar, where her oldest wines lay carefully preserved in large 
 casks. There she had in store no less treasure than the vin- 
 tages of 1706, '19, "26, and '48, all under her own especial 
 watch and ward, which were seldom broached except on 
 solemn festive occasions. 
 
 As she set before us the rich-colored wine in the polished 
 decanter, she exclaimed: "Here is the true tjTant's blood! 
 Glut yourselves with this, but let all mvurderous thoughts go 
 out of my house!" 
 
 " Yes, tyrants' blood indeed!" I cried; " there is no greater 
 tyrant than the one whose heart's blood is here set before you. 
 Kegale yom'selves with it ; but use moderation ! for beware 
 lest he subdue you by his spirit and agreeable taste. The vine
 
 110 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FROM MY OWN I.IFE. 
 
 is the universal tyrant who ought to be rooted up; let us 
 therefore choose and reverence as our patron Saint the holy 
 Lyciu-gus, the Thracian; he set about the pious work in 
 earnest, and though at last blinded and corrupted by the 
 infatuating demon Bacchus, he yet deserves to stand high in 
 the army of martjrs above. 
 
 " This vine-stock is the veiy vilest tjTant, at once an op- 
 pressor, a flatterer, and a hypocrite. The first draughts of 
 his blood are sweetly relishing, but one drop incessantly entices 
 another after it; they succeed each other lilie a necklace of 
 pearls, which one fears to pull apart." 
 
 If any should suspect me here of substituting, as the best 
 historians have done, a fictitious speech for the actual address, 
 I can only express my regret that no short-hand ■writer had 
 taken do^vn this peroration at once and handed it down to us. 
 The thoughts would be found the same, but the flow of the 
 language perhaps more graceful and attractive. Above all, 
 however, in the present sketch, as a whole, there is a want of 
 that diffuse eloquence and fulness of youth, which feels itself, 
 and knows not whither its strength and faculty will carry it. 
 
 In a city like Frankfort, one is placed in a strange position ; 
 strangers continually crossing each other, point to every region 
 of the globe, and awaken a passion for travelling. On many 
 an occasion before now I had shown an iucUnation to be mov- 
 ing, and now at the very moment w'hen the great point was 
 to make an experiment whether I could renounce Lilli — when 
 a certain painfiil disquiet unfitted me for all regular* business, 
 the proposition of the Stolbergs, that I should accompany them 
 to Switzerland, was welcome. Stimulated, moreover, by the 
 exhortations of my father, who looked with pleasure on the 
 idea of my travelling in that direction, and Avho advised me 
 not to omit to pass over into Italy, if a suitable occasion 
 should offer itself, I at once decided to go, and soon had 
 everji;hing packed for the journey. With some intimation, 
 but without leave-taking, I separated myself from Lili; she 
 had so grown into my heart, that I did not believe it possible 
 to part myself from her. 
 
 In a few hours I foimd myself with my merry fellow-tra- 
 vellers in Darmstadt. Even at court we shovJd not always 
 act with perfect propriety; here Count Haugwitz took the 
 lead. He was the youngest of us all, well formed, of a delicate.
 
 THE STOLBEEGS. 1 i 1 
 
 but noble appearance, with soft friendly features, of an equable 
 disposition, sympathizing enough, but with so much modera- 
 tion, that, contrasted with us, he appeared quite impassible. 
 Consequently, he had to put up with all sorts of jibes and 
 nicknames from them. This was all very well, so long as they 
 beUeved that they might act lilce childi'en of nature; but as 
 soon as occasion called for propriety, and when one was again 
 obliged, not unwillingly, to put on the reserve of a Count, 
 then he knew- how to introduce and to smoothe over every- 
 thing, so that we always came off with tolerable credit, if not 
 with eclat. 
 
 I spent my time, meanwhile, with Merk, who in his Mephis- 
 tophelist manner looked upon my intended journey with an 
 evil eye, and described my companions, who had also paid him 
 a visit, with a discrimination that listened not to any sugges- 
 tions of mercy. In his way he .knew me thoroughly ; the 
 naive and indomitable good nature of my character was pain- 
 ful to him; the everlasting purpose to take things as they are, 
 the live and let live was his detestation. "It is a foolish 
 trick," he said, " your going with these Burschen;" and then 
 he would describe them aptly, but not altogether justly. 
 Throughout there was a want of good feeling, and here I 
 could believe that I could see further than he cMd, although I 
 did not in fact do this, but only knew how to appreciate those 
 ideas of their character, which lay beyond the circle of his 
 vision. 
 
 " You will not stay long with them !" was the close of all 
 his remarks. On this occasion I remember a remarkable 
 saying of his, which he repeated to me at a later time, which 
 I had often repeated to myself, and frequently found confirmed 
 in life. " Thy stiiving," said he, " thy \mswerving effort is 
 to give a poetic form to the real; others seek to give reality 
 to the so-called poetic, to the imaginative, and of that nothing 
 wiU ever come but stupid stuff." Whoever apprehends the 
 immense difference between these two modes of action, who- 
 ever insists and acts upon this conviction, has reached the 
 solution of a thousand other things. 
 
 Unhappily, before our party left Darmstadt, an incident 
 happened which tended to verify beyond dispute the opinion 
 of Merk. 
 
 A.mong the extravaganzas which gi-ew out of the notion that
 
 112 TRUTH AXD POETRY; FROM MY OWN" LIFE. 
 
 we should try to transport ourselves iiilo a state of nature, 
 was that of bathing in public waters, in the open air; and 
 GUI' friends, after violating every other law of propriety, could 
 not forego this additional unseemliness. Darmstadt, situated 
 on a sandy plain, without running water, had, it appeared, a 
 pond in the neighbourhood, of which I only heard on this 
 occasion. My friends, who were hot by natm-e, and moreover 
 kept continually heating themselves, sought refreshment in 
 this pond. The sight of naked youths in the clear sunshine, 
 might well seem something strange in this region; at all 
 events scandal arose. Merk sharpened his conclusions, and I 
 do not deny that I was glad to hasten our departure. 
 
 On the way to Mamiheim, in spite of all good and noble 
 feelintrs which we entertained in common, a certain difference 
 in sentiment and conduct already exhibited itself. Leopold 
 Stolberg told us mth much of feeling and passion, that he 
 had been forced to renouiice a sincere attachment to a beautiful 
 English ladj', and on that accoimt had undertaken so long a 
 jomney. When he received in retiim the sjnnpathising con- 
 fession that we too were not strangers to such experiences, 
 then he gave vent without respect to the feelings of youth, 
 declaring that nothing in the world could be compared with 
 his passion, his sufferings, or Avith the bcautj' and amiability 
 of his beloved. If by moderate observations we tried, as is 
 proper among good companions, to bring him duly to quaHfy 
 his assertion, it only made matters worse ; and Count Haugwitz, 
 as well as I, were inclined at last to let the matter di'op. "When 
 we had reached Mannheim, we occupied pleasant chambers 
 in a respectable hotel, and after our first dinner there during 
 the dessert, at which the wine was not spared, Leopold chal- 
 lenged us to drink to the health of his fair one, which was 
 done noisily enough. After the glasses were drained, he cried 
 out : But now, out of goblets thus consecrated, no more drink- 
 ing must be permitted ; a second health would be a profana- 
 tion ; therefore, let us annihilate these vessels ! and with these 
 words he dashed the wine-glass against the wall behind him. 
 The rest of us followed his example ; and I imagined at the 
 moment, that Merk pulled me by the collar. 
 
 But youth stUl retains this trait of childhood, that it harbors 
 no malice against good companions ; that its imsophisticated 
 good nature may be brushed somewhat roughly indeed, to be 
 sure, but cannot be permanently injured.
 
 KLOPSTOCK. 113 
 
 The glasses tlius proclaimed angelical had considerably 
 swelled our reckoning, comforting ourselves, however, and 
 determined to be merry, we hastened for Carlsruhe, there to 
 enter a new circle, with all the confidence of youth and its 
 freedom from care. There we foimd Klopstock, who still 
 maintained, with dignity, his ancient authority over disciples 
 who held him in reverence. I also gladly did homage to him, 
 so that when bidden to his court with the others, I probably 
 conducted myself tolerably well for a novice. One felt, too, 
 in a certain manner called upon to be natural and sensible at 
 the same time. 
 
 The reigning Margrave, highly honored among the German 
 Sovereigns as one of their princely seniors, but more especi- 
 ally on accoimt of the excellent aims of his government, was 
 glad to converse about matters of political economy. The 
 Margravine, active and well versed in the arts and various 
 useful branches of knowledge, was also pleased by some 
 graceful speeches to manifest a certain sympathy for us ; for 
 which we were duly grateful, though when at home we could 
 not refrain from venting some severe remarks upon her miser- 
 able paper-manufactor)-, and the favor she showed to the 
 piratical bookseller Macklot. 
 
 The circumstance, however, of importance for me, was, that 
 the young duke of Saxe-Weimar had arrived here to enter 
 into a formal matrimonial engagement with his noble bride, 
 the princess Louisa of Hesse-Darmstadt; President von 
 Moser had already arrived on the same business, in order to 
 settle this important contract with the court-tutor Count 
 Gortz, and fully to ratify it. My conversations with botli 
 the high personages were most friendly, and at the farewell 
 audience, they both made me repeated assurances that it 
 would be pleasant to them to see me at Weimar. 
 
 Some private conversations with Klopstock, won me by the 
 friendliness they showed, and led me to use openness and can- 
 doxir with him. I commimicated to him the latest scenes of 
 Faust, which he seemed to approve of. Indeed, as I afterwards 
 learned, he had spoken of them to others with marked com- 
 mendation, a thing not usual with him, and expressed a wish 
 to see the conclusion of the piece. 
 
 Our former rudeness, though sometimes as we called it, our 
 genius-like demeanour, was kept in something like a chaste 
 Vol. II. I
 
 114 XliUTH ANB POETKY; mOM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 restraint in Carlsruhe, which is decent and almost holy 
 ground. I parted from my companions, as I had resolved to 
 take a wide round and go to Emmendingen, where my brother- 
 in-law was high bailiff. I looked upon this visit to my sister 
 as a real trial. I knew that her married life was unhappy, 
 while there was no cause to find fatdt Avith her, with her hus- 
 band, or with circumstances. She Avas of a peculiar nature, 
 of which it is difficult to speak ; we will endeavour, however, 
 to set do'.vn hero whatever admits of being described. 
 
 A fine form was in her favor ; but not so her features, which, 
 although expressing clearly enough, goodness, intelligence, 
 and sensibility, were nevertheless wanting in regularity and 
 grace. 
 
 Add to this, that a high and strongly ai-ched forehead, ex- 
 posed still more by the abominable fashion of dressing the 
 hau' back on the head, contributed to leave a certain unplea- 
 sant impression, although it bore the best testimony to her 
 moral and intellectual qualities. I can fancy, that if after 
 the modern fashion, she had surrounded the upper part of her 
 face with cm-Is, and clothed her temples and cheeks with 
 ringlets, she would have found herself more agreeable before 
 the mirror, without fear of displeasing others as well as her- 
 self. Then there was the gi'ave fault, that her skin was 
 seldom clean, an evil which from her youth up, by some 
 demoniacal fatality, was most sure to show itself on all festal 
 occasions, and at coHcerts, balls, and other parties. 
 
 In spite of these drawbacks she gradually made her way, 
 however, as her better and nobler quaHties showed themselves 
 more distinctly. 
 
 A firm character not easily controlled, a soul that sympa- 
 thised and needed sympathy, a highly cultivated mind, fine 
 acquirements and talents; some knowledge of languages and 
 a ready pen — all these she possessed — so that if she had been 
 more richly favored with outward charms, she woidd have 
 been among the women most sought after in her day. 
 
 Besides all this there is one strange thing to be mentioned : 
 there was not the slightest touch of sensual passion in her 
 nature. She had grown up with me, and had no other wish 
 than to continue and pass her life in this fraternal union. 
 Since m.y return from the Academy we had been inseparable ; 
 with the most unreserved confidence we shai'ed all oui thoughts.
 
 MY SISTEE. 115 
 
 feelings, and humors, and even the most incidental and pass- 
 ing impressions of every accidental circumstance. When I 
 went to Wetzlar, the loneliness of the house without me 
 seemed insupportable ; my Mend Schlosser, neither unknown 
 nor repugnant to the good girl, stepped into my place. Iii 
 him, unfortimately, the brotitierly affection changed into a 
 decided, and to judge from his strictly conscientious character, 
 probably a fii-st passion. Here there was ibund what people 
 call as good a match as could be wished, and my sister, after 
 ha\'ing stedfastly rejected several good offers, but from 
 insignificant men, whom she always had an aversion to, 
 allowed herself to be, I may well say, talked into accepting 
 him. 
 
 I must frankly confess that I have frequently indulged in 
 fancies about my sister's destiny, I did not like to think of her 
 as the mistress of a family, but rather as an ^Vbbcss, as the 
 Lady Superior of some noble community. She possessed 
 every requisite for such a high position, v/hile she M'as want- 
 ing in all that the world deems indispensable in its members. 
 Over feminine souls she always exercised an irresistible influ- 
 ence ; young minds were gently attracted towards her, and she 
 ruled them by the spirit of her inward superiority. As she 
 had in common with me an imiversal tolerance for the good, 
 the human, with all its eccentricities, provided they did not 
 amount to perv^ersity, there was.no need for seeking to conceal 
 from her any idiosyncrasy which might mark any remarkable 
 natural talents, or for its owner feeling any constraint in her 
 presence: hence our parties, as we have seen before, were 
 always varied, free, iugeriuous, and sometimes perhaps bor- 
 dering on boldness. My habit of forming intimacies with 
 yoimg ladies of a respectful and obliging nature, without 
 allowing any closer engagement or relations to grow out of 
 them, was mainly owing to my sister's influence over me. 
 And now the sagacious reader, who is capable of reading into 
 these lines what does not stand written in them, but is never- 
 theless implied, will be able to form some concRption 'of the 
 serious feelings with which I then set foot in Emmendingon. 
 
 But at my departure, after a short visit, a heavier load lay 
 on my heart, for my sister had earnestly recommended not to 
 say enjoined me, to breali off my connection with Lilli. She 
 herself .had suffered much from along-protracted engagement; 
 
 i2
 
 116 TKUTH AND POETKY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Schlosser, -with his spirit of rectitude, did not betroth himself 
 to her, until he was sure of his appointment under the Grand 
 Duke of Baden ; indeed, if one would take it so, until he was 
 actually appointed. The answer to his application, however, 
 was delayed in an incredible manner. If I may express my 
 conjecture on the matter, the brave Schlosser, able man of 
 business as he was, was nevertheless on account of his down- 
 right integrit)', desu-able neither to the prince as a servant, 
 immediately in contact with himself, nor to the minister, who 
 still less liked to have so honest a coadjutor near to him. 
 His expected and earnestly desired appointment at Carlsnihe 
 was never filled up. But the delay was explained to me, 
 when the place of Upper Bailiff in Emmendiugen became 
 vacant, and he was instantly selected for it. Thus an office 
 of much dignity and profit was now intrusted to him, for 
 which he had shown himself fully competent. It seemed 
 entirely suited to his taste, his mode of action, to stand here 
 alone to act according to his OAvn conviction, and to be held 
 responsible for everything, whether for praise or blame. 
 
 As no objections could be raised to his accepting this place, 
 my sister had to follow him, not indeed to a Coiu"t-residence, 
 as she had hoped, but to a place which must have seemed to 
 her a solitude, a desert ; to a dweUing, spacious to be sure, 
 with an official dignity, and stately, but destitute of aU chance 
 of society. Some young ladies, with whom she had cultivated 
 an early friendship, followed her there, and as the Gerock 
 family was blessed Avith many daughters, these contrived to 
 stay with her in turn, so that, in the midst of such privation, 
 she always enjoyed the presence of at least one long- trusted 
 friend. 
 
 These circumstances, these experiences, made her feel 
 justified in recommending to me, most earnestly, a separation 
 from Lilli. She thought it hard to take such a young lady 
 (of whom she had formed the highest opinion) out of the 
 midst of a lively, if not splendid circle, and to shut her up in 
 our old house, which, although very passable in its way, was 
 not suited for the reception of distinguished society, sticking^ 
 her, as it were, between a well-disposed, but imsociable, pre- 
 cise, and formal father, and a mother extremely active in her 
 domestic matters, who, after the household business of the 
 day was over would not like to be disturbed over some
 
 SCHAFFHAUSEN — ZUBICH LAVAXEK. 117 
 
 notable bit of work by a friendly conversation with forward 
 and refined young girls. On the other hand, she in a lively 
 manner set LiUi's position before me; for, partly in my 
 letters, partly in a confidential but impassioned conversation, 
 I had told her eveiything to a hair. 
 
 Unfortunately her description was only a circumstantial 
 and well-meant completion of what a gossiping friend, in 
 whom, by dcgi-ccs, aU confidence ceased to be placed, had 
 contrived by mentioning a few characteristic traits to insi- 
 nuate into her naind. 
 
 I could promise her nothing, although I was obHged to 
 confess that she had cominced me. I went on with that 
 enigmatic feeling in my heart, ^^dth which passion always 
 Bovu-ishes itself; for the Child Cupid clings obstinately to the 
 garment of Hope, even when she is preparing with long steps 
 to flee away. 
 
 The only thing between this place and Zurich which I now 
 clearly remember, is the falls of the Rhine at Schaffhausen. 
 A mighty cascade here gives the indication of the moun- 
 tainous region which we designed to enter; where, each step 
 becoming steeper and more difiicult, we should have labori- 
 ously to clamber up the heigths. 
 
 llie idew of the lake of Zurich, which we enjoyed from the 
 gate of the '■'■Sword,''' is still before me; I say from the gate 
 of the tavern, for, without stopping to enter it, I hastened to 
 Lavater. He gave me a cheerful and hearty reception, and 
 was, I must confess, extremely gracious; confiding, con- 
 siderate, kind, and elevating was his bearing, indeed, it would 
 be impossible to expect anything else of liim. His wife, with 
 somewhat singular, but serene tenderly pious expression of 
 coxmtenance, fully harmonized, like everj'thing else about 
 him, with his way of thinking and li^•ing. 
 
 Om- fii-st, and perhaps only theme of conversation, was his 
 system of Physiognomy. The first part of this remarkable 
 work, was, if I mistake not, already printed, or, at least, near 
 its completion. It might be said to be at once stamped with 
 genius and yet empii-ical; methodical, but still in its instances 
 incomplete and partial. I was strangly connected with it, 
 Lavater wanted all the world for co-operators and sym- 
 pathizers. During liis travels up the Rhine, he had portraits 
 "taken of a great many distinguished men, in order to excite
 
 118 TRUTH AND POETilY ; FI105I JIY OWN LIFE. 
 
 their personal interest in a work in which they were to 
 appear. He proceeded in the same way with artists; he 
 called iipon every one to send him drawings for illustrations. 
 The latter came, and many were not exactly suited for his 
 pm-pose. So, too, he had copper-plates engraved in all parts, 
 which seldom turned out characteristic copies. Much labor 
 had been bestowed on his part; Avith money and exertions of 
 aU kinds an important work was now ready, and full honor 
 was done to Physiognomy. But when in a great volume, illus- 
 trated by examples, Physiognomy, founded on doctrine, was 
 to set up its claims to the dignity of science, it was found 
 that not a single picture said what it ought to say ; all the 
 plates had to be censiu*ed or to be taken with exceptions, 
 none to be praised, but only tolerated ; many, indeed, were 
 quite altered by the explanations. For me, who in all my 
 studies sought a firm footing before I went fiu-ther, I had 
 now to perform one of the most painful tasks which industry 
 could be set to. Let the reader judge. The manuscript, with 
 impressions of the plates inserted was sent to me at Frank- 
 fort. I was authorized to strike out whatever displeased me, 
 to change and put in what I Hked. However I made a very 
 moderate use of this liberty. In one instance he had intro- 
 duced a long and violent piece of controversy against an 
 unjust orator, which I left out, and substituted a cheerful 
 poem about nature ; for this he scolded me, but afterwards, 
 when he had cooled doAvn, approved of what I had done. 
 
 Whoever turns over the fom- volumes of Physiognomy, and 
 (what he will not repent of) reads them, may conceive the 
 interest there was in our interviews, during which, as most of 
 the plates contained in it were already drawn and part of 
 them had been engraved, we examined, and decided on those 
 fit to be inserted in tiie work, and considered the ingenious 
 means by which those, which did not exactly tally with its 
 principles, might be made instructive and suitable. 
 
 ^Tienever at present I look through the work of Lavater, 
 a strange comic, merry feeling comes over me ; it seems as 
 if I saw before me the shadows of men formerly known to 
 me, over whom I once fretted, and in whom I find little 
 satisfaction now. 
 
 The possibility, however, of retaining in some sort, much 
 that otherwise would have been vmsuitable, was owing to the
 
 TISIT TO BODMEK. 119 
 
 fine and decided talent of the sketcher and engraver, Lips. 
 He was, in fact, bom for the free prosaic representation of 
 the actual, which was precisely the thing wanted in this case. 
 He worked under a singidarly exacting physiognomist, and 
 therefore was obhged to look sharp to approximate to the 
 demands of his master ; the clever peasant-boy felt the whole 
 responsibility of working for a clerical gentleman from a citj' 
 so highly privileged, and gave his best care to the business. 
 
 Li\'ing in a separate house from my companions, I became 
 every day more of a stranger to them, without the least un- 
 pleasant feeling having arisen ; our riu-al excm-sions were no 
 longer made together, although in the city we still kept up 
 some iutercoiu-se. With all the arrogance of yoimg counts 
 they had honored Lavater with a visit and appeared to the 
 sldlfid physiognomist somewhat different from what they did 
 to the rest of the world. He sjioke to me about them, and I 
 remember quite well, that, speaking of Leopold Stolberg, he 
 exclaimed: "I know not what you all mean; he is a noble, 
 excellent youth, and fuU of talent; but you have described 
 him to me as a hero, as a Hercides, and I have never in my 
 life seen a softer and more sensitive young man; nor, if need 
 be, one more easily influenced. I am stiU far from having 
 foiined a clear physiognomical judgment of him, but as for 
 you and aU the rest, you are in a fog altogether." 
 
 Siace Lavater"s journey on the Lower Rhine, the public 
 interest in him and his physiognomical studies had greatly 
 increased ; visitors of aU sorts crowded upon him, so that he 
 felt in some sort emban'assed at being looked upon' as the 
 first of spiritual and intellectual men, and the chief point of 
 attraction for strangers. Hence, to avoid envy and all im- 
 pleasant feelings, he managed to remind and warn his visitors 
 that they must treat other distinguished men with friendship 
 and respect. 
 
 In this especial regard was had to the aged Bodmer, and, 
 accordingly, we were compelled to visit him and pay our 
 youthful respects to him. He lived on a hill, above the large 
 or old town, which lay on the right bank, where the lake 
 contracts its waters into the Limmat. We crossed' the old 
 town, and. bv' a path that became steeper and steeper, at last 
 ascended the height behind the walls, where, between the 
 fortifications and the old wall, a pleasaul subui^o had sprang
 
 120 TKUTir AXD rOlOTRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 up, partly in continuous and partly in detached houses, with 
 a half ccuntiy look. The house where Bodmer had passed 
 his whole life, stood in the midst of an open and cheerful 
 neighbourhood, which, the day being beautiful and clear, we 
 often paused on our road to survey with the greatest pleasure. 
 We were conducted up a flight of steps into a wainscoted 
 chamber, where a brisk old man, of middle stature, came to 
 meet us. He received us with his usual greeting to young 
 visitors ; telling us that we must consider it an act of courtesy 
 on his part to have delayed so long his departure from this 
 world in order that he might receive us kindly, form* our 
 acquaintance, refresh himself mth our talents, and wish us 
 joy in our future career. 
 
 We, on the other hand, congratulated him that, as a poet 
 belonging to the patriarchal world, he had yet in the neigh- 
 bom-hood of the most highly cultivated city, possessed during 
 liis whole life a truly idyllic dwelling, and, in the high free 
 air, had enjoyed for so many long years such a wide and 
 beautiftd prospect to feed his eyes with mifading delight. 
 
 It seemed anj-thing but displeasing to the old man when 
 we asked permission to take a view from his Avindow of the 
 neighbouring scener)-; and truly the prospect in the cheerful 
 sunshine, and in the' best season of the year, appeared quite 
 incomparable. The prospect commanded much of the slope, 
 fro"m the great town down to the water's edge, as well as 
 the smaller town across the Limmat, and the whole of the 
 fertile Sihl-feld, towards the west. Behind us, on the left, 
 •was a part of the lake of Zurich, with its bright rippled svir- 
 face, and its shores endlessly varjang with alternating hill 
 and valley and height after height in greater variety than the 
 eye could" take in, which, dazzled by this splendom-, delighted 
 to rest on the blue range of the loftier mountains in the 
 distance, whose snowy summits man has been so far inti- 
 mate with as to give names to. 
 
 The rapture of us young men at sight of the mai'vellous 
 beauty which, for so many years, had daily been before him, 
 appeared to please the old poet; he became, so to speak, 
 ironically sj-mpathizing, and we parted the best of friends, 
 but not 'before' a yearning for those blue mountain heights 
 had taken possession of ovu- souls. 
 
 Now I am on the point of leaving our worthy patriarch, I
 
 PASSAVANT iATATEK. 121 
 
 remark, for the first time, that I have as yet said nothing of 
 his form and countenance, of his movements, and his carriage 
 and bearing. 
 
 In general, I do not think it quite right for travellers to 
 describe every distinguished man, whom they visit, as if they 
 M anted to furnish materials for advertising a runaway. No 
 one sufficiently considers that he has only looked at the great 
 man dming the moment of introduction, and then only in his 
 own way; and that according to the circumstances of the 
 moment the host may or not be what he seemed, proud or 
 meek, silent and talkative, cheerful or morose. In this par- 
 ticular case, however, I may excuse myself from the attempt, 
 by saying that no verbal description of Bodmer's venerable 
 person would convey an adequate impression. Fortunately 
 there exists a picture of him by Count von Bause, which per- 
 fectly represents the man as he appeared to us, and, indeed, 
 exactly preserves his pecidiar penetrating and reflective 
 look. 
 
 A great, not indeed imexpected, but still liighly coveted 
 gratification awaited me in Zurich, Avhere I met my young 
 Mend, Passavant. Of a respectable family of the reformed 
 persuasion, and born in my native city, he lived in Switzer- 
 land, at the fountain-head of the doctrine which he was after- 
 wards to proclaim as a preacher. With a frame not large, 
 but active, his face and hLs whole manner promised a quick 
 and agreeable resoluteness of character. His hair and beard 
 were black, his eyes lively. On the whole, you saw in him a 
 man of some sensitiveness, but of moderate energy. 
 
 Scarcely had we embraced one another and exchanged the 
 first greeting, when he immediately proposed to me to visit 
 the smaller cantons. Having himself already walked through 
 them with great delight, he wished, with the sight of them, to 
 awaken my rapture and enthusiasm. 
 
 While I was talking over, with Lavatcr, the most interest- 
 ing and important points of our common business, until we 
 had nearly exhausted them, my lively fellow-travellers had 
 ab-eady sallied forth in various directions, and, in their own 
 fashion, had examined the coimtry. Passavant, receiving and 
 welcoming me with hearty friendship, believed that he had 
 gained thereby a right to the exclusive possession of my 
 society, and, therefore, in the absence of my companions, con-
 
 122 TRUTH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OWN LirE. 
 
 trived to entice me to the mountains, the more easily, since I 
 'w&s decidedly inclined to accomplish the long desired ramble 
 in quiet and at liberty to follo'.v my o\ra ^yhims. Without 
 further deliberation, therefore, we stepped into a boat and 
 sailed up the glorious lake, oa a fine clear morning. 
 
 A poem inserted here may give the reader some intimation 
 of those happy moments : 
 
 New draughts of strength and youthful blood. 
 
 From this free world Fve press'd; 
 Here nature is so mild, so good^ 
 
 Who clasps me to her breast. 
 The billows rock our little boat, 
 
 The oars in measme beat, 
 The hills, while clouds around them float, 
 
 Approach our barque to meet. 
 
 Eye. mine eye, why sink'st thou mom-ning? 
 Golden di-eams, are ye returning? 
 Though thou'rt gold, thou di-eam, farewell ; 
 Here, too, life and love can dwell. 
 
 Countless stars are blinking, 
 
 In the waters here. 
 On the mountains drinking 
 
 Clouds of mist appear; 
 Roimd the cool bay flying. 
 
 Morning breezes wake. 
 Ripen' d fruits are lying 
 
 MiiTor'd in the lake. 
 
 We landed in Richterswyl, where we had an introduction 
 from Lavater to Doctor Hotze. As a physician, and a highly 
 intelligent and benevolent man, he enjoyed great esteem in 
 Ms immediate neighbom-hood and in the' whole country, and 
 we can do no better honor to his memory than by referring to 
 a passage in Lavater's Physiognomy, Avhich describes him. 
 
 After a very hospitable entertainment, which he relieved 
 with a highly agreeable and instructive conversation, describ- 
 ing to us the next halting-places in our journey, we ascended 
 the mountains which lay before us. When we were about to 
 descend again into the vale of Schindellegi, we turned round
 
 ST. mary"s hermitage. 12& 
 
 to take in once more the charming prospect over the lake of 
 Zurich. 
 
 Of my feelings at that moment some idea may be gathered 
 from the following lines, which, jvist as I wrote them down, 
 are still preserved in a little memorandmn book : 
 
 Dearest Lilli, if I did not love thee, 
 
 I should revel in a scene like this ! 
 Yet, sweet Lilli, if I did not love thee, 
 
 What were any bliss ? 
 
 This little impromptu reads to me more expressive in its 
 present context, than as it stands by itself in the printed col- 
 lection of my poems. 
 
 The rough roads, which led to St. Mary's heimitage, did 
 not wear out our good spirits. A niunber of pilgrims, whom 
 we had remarked below upon the lake, now overtook us and 
 asked the aid of our prayers in behalf of theii* pious object. 
 We saluted them and let them pass, and as they moved 
 regularly with their hymns and prayers, they lent a charac- 
 teristic gi'aceful animation to the drearj' heights. We saw 
 livingly marked out the serpentine path which we too had to 
 travel, and seemed to be joyously following. The customs 
 of the Romish chm-ch are altogether significant and imposing 
 to the Protestant, inasmuch as he only recognises the inmost 
 principle, by which they were first called forth, the human 
 element by which they are propagated from race to race ; 
 thus penetrating at once to the kernel, without troubling him- 
 self, just at the moment with the shell, the rind, or even with 
 the tree itself, its twigs, leaves, bark, and roots. 
 
 We now saw rising a dreary, treeless vale, the splendid 
 church, the cloister, of broad and stately compass, in the 
 midst of a neat place of sojourn for a large and varied assembly 
 of guests. 
 
 The little church within the church, the former hermitage 
 of the saint, incrusted with marble, and transformed as far as 
 possible into a regular chapel, was something new, to me; 
 something that I had not seen, this little vessel, surrounded 
 and built over with pillars and vaults. It could not but 
 excite sober thoughts to reflect how a single spark of good- 
 ness, and of the fear of God, had here kindled a bright and 
 biirning flame, so that troops of believers, never ceased to
 
 1'24 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFK. 
 
 make painful pilgrimages in order to light their little tapers 
 at this holy fire. However the fact is to be explained, it 
 plainly points at least to an unbounded craving in man, for 
 equal light, for equal warmth, with that which this old hermit 
 cherished and enjoyed in the deepest feeling and the most 
 secui'e conviction. We were shewn into the ti'easm'e chamber, 
 which was rich and imposing enough, and offered to the 
 astonished eye busts of the size of life, not to say colossal, of 
 the saints and founders of different orders. 
 
 A very different sort of feeling was awakened at the sight 
 of a closet opening upon this. It was filled with antique 
 valuables here dedicated and honored. INIy attention was 
 fixed by various golden crowns of remarkable workmanship, 
 out of which I contemplated one exclusively. It was a 
 pointed cro\^•n, in the style of former days, such as one may 
 have seen in pictures on the heads of ancient queens, but of a 
 m.ost tasteful design and of highly elaborate execution. The 
 colored stones with which it was studded were distributed 
 over it or set opposite to each other, >vith great effect and 
 judgment: it was, in short, a work of that kind which one 
 would pronounce perfect at the first glance, without waiting 
 to bring out this impression by an appeal to the laws of art. 
 
 In such cases, where the art is not recognised, but felt, 
 heart and soul are turned towards the object, one would like 
 to possess the jewel, that one might impart pleasiu-e to others 
 with such a gift. I begged permission to handle the little 
 crown, and as I hold it up respectfully in my hand, I could 
 not help thinking that I shoidd like to press it upon the 
 bright, glittering locks of Lilli, lead her before the mirror, 
 and witness her own joy in it, and the happiness which she 
 spread around her. I have often thought since, that this 
 scene, if realized by a sldlful painter, would be highly touch- 
 ing and full of meaning. It were worth one's while to be the 
 yoimg king to receive a bride and a new kingdom in this 
 way. 
 
 In order to show us all the treasures of the cloister, they 
 led us into a cabinet of natural and artificial curiosities. I had 
 then but little idea of the value of such things ; at that time 
 geognosy, which is so commendable in itself, but which frit- 
 ters away the impression produced by the earth's beautiful 
 surface on the mind's eye, had not begun to entice me, still
 
 THE SCHWYZEK-HAKEX. 125 
 
 less had a fantastic geology entangled me in its labpinths. 
 Nevertheless, the monk who acted as oxu* guide, compelled me 
 to bestow some attention on a fossil, much prized as he said 
 by connoisseurs, a small wild boar's head well preserved in a 
 lump of blue fiiUer's clay, which, black as it was, has dwelt in 
 my imagination ever since. They had found it in the country 
 of Rapperswyl, a district which ever since the memory of man 
 was so full of morasses, that it could well receive and keep 
 such mummies for posterity. 
 
 Far different attractions was presented to me by a copper- 
 plate engraving of Martin Schon, which was kept under a 
 glass frame, and represented the Assumption of the Virgin- 
 True, only a perfect specimen could give an idea of the art of 
 such a master ; but then we are so affected by it, as with the 
 perfect in every branch of art, that we cannot get rid of the 
 wish to possess something in some way like it, to be able con- 
 stantly to repeat the sight of it, however long a time may 
 intervene. Why should I not anticipate and confess here, 
 that afterwards I could not rest until I had succeeded in 
 obtaining an excellent copy of this plate. 
 
 On the 16th of July, 1755 (for here I find a date first set 
 down), we entered upon a toilsome journey ; wild stony 
 heights were to be surmounted, and that, too, in a perfect 
 solitude and wilderness. At a quarter before eight in the 
 evening, we stood before the Sehwyzer-Haken, two mountain 
 peaks which jut out boldly, side by side, into the sky. For 
 the first time we foimd snow upon our path, where on the 
 lagged rocks it had been hanging since the winter. A prim- 
 eval forest, with its solemn awe, filled the immense valleys, 
 into which we were about to descend. Refreshed, after a 
 short rest, we sprang, with bold and Hght step, from cliff to 
 cliff, from ledge to ledge, down the precipitous foot-path, and 
 arrived by ten o'clock at Schwyz. We had become at once 
 weary yet cheerful, exhausted yet excited; we eagerly 
 quenched our violent thirst, and felt ourselves still more 
 inspired. Imagine the young man who but two years before 
 had written Werther, and his stiU younger friend who still 
 earlier had read that remarkable work in manuscript, and had 
 been strangely excited by it, had transported in some respect 
 without their knowing it or wishing it, into a state of nature, 
 and there in the consciousness of rich powers, A-ividly recall-
 
 126 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN XIFE. 
 
 ing past passions, clinging to those of the present, shaping 
 ■fruitless plans, rioting through the realm of fancy, and you 
 will be able to form some conception of our situation then, 
 which I should not know how to describe, if it did not stand 
 written in my journal : " Laughing and shouting lasted imtil 
 jnidnight." 
 
 On the morning of the 17th, we saw the Schwyzer-Haken 
 from our windows. Ai-ound these vast and iiTegular natiu*al 
 pyramids, clouds rose upon clouds. At one in the afternoon 
 we left Schwyz, on om- way to the Rigi ; at two we were on 
 the Lawerzer lake, the sun shining brilliantly on it and on us 
 aU the Avhile. For sheer delight We saw nothing. Two stout 
 maidens guided the boat ; that looked pretty, and w^e made 
 no objection. We arrived upon the island, on which they say 
 once lived the former lord of the castle ; be this as it may, 
 the hut of the anchorite has now planted itself amidst the 
 ruins. 
 
 We climbed the Rigi ; at half-past seven we stood at the 
 foot of the " Mother of God" covered in snow: then passed 
 the chapel and the nunnery, and rested at the hotel of the 
 Ox. 
 
 - On the 1 8th, Sunday morning early, we took a sketch of 
 the chapel from the Ox. At twelve we went to Kaltenbad, or 
 the fountain of the Three Sisters. By a quarter after two we 
 had reached the simimit ; we found ourselves in the clouds, 
 this time doubly disagreeable to us, since they both hindered 
 the prospect and drenched us with mist. But Avhen, here and 
 there, they opened and showed us, framed as it vrere by their 
 ever-varying outline, a clear, majestic sim-lit world, with 
 the changing scenes of a diorama, we no longer lamented 
 these accidents ; for it was a sight we had never seen before 
 and shoidd never behold again, and we lingered long in this 
 somewhat inconvenient position, to catch, through the chinks 
 and crevices of the ever-shifting masses of cloud, some little 
 point of sunny earth, some little strip of shore, or pretty nook 
 of the lake. 
 
 By eight in the evening we were back again at the door of 
 the inn, and refreshed ourselves with baked fish and eggs, 
 and plenty of wine. 
 
 As the twilight and the night gi-adually came on, our cars 
 were filled with mysteriously harmonizing sounds : the twink-
 
 WIXI-IAM TELT,. 127 
 
 ling of the chapel bells, the splashing of the fountain, the 
 rustUng of changeful breezes, with the horns of the foresters 
 in the distance; — ^these were blest, soothing, tranquilKsing 
 moments. 
 
 At half-past six, on the morning of the 1 9th, first ascending 
 then going do^sni by the Waldst'atter Lake we came to Fitz- 
 nau ; from thence, by water, to Gersau. At noon, we were 
 in the hotel on the lake. About two o'clock wc Vvcre oppo- 
 site to Griitli, where the three TeUs conspired ; then upon the 
 flat rock where the hero sprang from his boat, and where the 
 legend of his life and deeds is recorded and immortalized 
 by a painting. At three we were at Fliielen, where he em- 
 barked ; and at four in Altorf, where he shot the apple. 
 
 Aided by tliis poetic thread one winds conveniently through 
 the labyrinth of these rocky walls w^hich, descending perpen- 
 dicularly to the water, stand silently before us. They, the 
 immovable, stand there as quietly as the side-scenes of a 
 theatre ; success or failure, joy or son-ow, mereh' pertain to 
 the persons who for the day successively strut upon the 
 stage. 
 
 Such reflections, however, were wholly out of the circle of 
 the vision of the youths who then looked upon them ; what had 
 recently passed had been dismissed from their thoughts, and 
 the fixture lay before them as strangely inscrutable, as the 
 mountain region which they were laboriously penetrating. 
 
 On the 20th, we breakfasted at Anistag, where they cooked 
 us a savoury dinner of baked fish. Here now, on this moun- 
 tain ledge, where the Reuss, which was at all times wild, 
 enough, was rushing from rugged clefts, and dashing the cool 
 snow-water over the rocky channels, I could not help enjoy- 
 ing the longed-for opportunity and refreshing myself in the 
 foaming waves. 
 
 At three o'clock we proceeded onwards ; a row of sumpter- 
 horses went before us, we marched with them over a broad 
 mass of snow, and did not learn till afterwards, that it was 
 hollow vmderneath. The snows of winter, that had- depo- 
 sited themselves here in a mountain gorge, which at other 
 seasons it was necessary to skirt circmtoiisly, now furnished 
 us with a shorter and more direct road. But the waters which 
 forced their way beneath had gradually undermined the snowy 
 mass, and the mild summer had melted more and more of the
 
 128 TRUTH AXD POEKTY; FEOir MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 lower side of the vault, so that now, like a broad arched 
 bridge, it formed a natural connection between the opposite 
 sides. We eonviuced ourselves of this strange freak of nature 
 by venturing more than half way down into the broader part 
 of the gorge. As we kept ascending, we left pine forests in 
 the chasm, through which the Reuss from time to time 
 appeared, foaming and dashing over rocky precipices. 
 
 At half-past seven we arrived at Wasen, where, to render 
 palatable the red, heavy, sour Lombardy -wine, we were 
 forced to have recoui-sc to water, and to supply, by a great 
 deal of sugar, the ingredient which nature had refused to ela- 
 borate in the grape. The landlord showed us some beautiful 
 crystals ; but I had, at that time, so little interest in the study 
 of nature and such specimens, that I did not care to burden 
 myself with these mountain products, however cheaply they 
 might be bought. 
 
 On the 21st, at half-past six, we were still ascending; the 
 rocks grew more and more stupendous and awful ; the path 
 to the Tevfelstein (Devil's Stone), from which we were to gain 
 a view of the Devil's Bridge, was still more difficult. My 
 companion being disposed for a rest, proposed me to sketch 
 the most important views. My outlines were, perhaps, tole- 
 rably successful, but nothing seemed to stand out, nothing ty 
 retire into tlie distance; for such objects I had no language. 
 "VV^e toUed on fuilher ; the horrors of the wilderness seemed 
 continually to deepen, planes became hills, and hollows 
 chasms. And so my guide conducted me to the cave oi 
 Ursern, through which I walked in somewhat of an ill humor ; 
 what we had seen thus far was, at any rate, sublime, this 
 darkness took everything away. 
 
 But the roguish guide anticipated the joyful astonishment 
 which would overwhelm me on my egress. There the mode- 
 rately foaming stream wound mildly tlirough a level vale sur- 
 rounded by mountains, but wide enough to invite habitation. 
 Above the clean little village of Ursern and its church, which 
 stood opposite to us on a level plot, rose a pine-grove which 
 was held sacred, because it protected the inhabitants at its foot 
 from the rolling of the avalanches. Here we enjoyed the 
 sight of long-missed vegetation. The meadows of the val- 
 ley, just beginning to look green, were adorned along the 
 river side with short willows The trauquiUity was great ;
 
 THE HOSPICE. 129 
 
 upon the level paths we felt our powers revive again, and my 
 fcllow-travcUer was not a little proud of the surprise -wLick 
 he had so skilfully contrived. 
 
 Thfe meadows produce the celebrated Ursern cheese, and 
 the youthful travellers, high in spirits, pronounced veiy 
 tolerable M'ine not to be sm-passed in order to heighten their 
 enjojonent, and to give a more fantastic impulse to their pro- 
 jects. 
 
 On the 22nd, at half-past three, we left our quarters, that 
 from the smooth Ursern valley we might enter upon the stony 
 valley of Livincr. Here, too, we at once missed all vegetation ; 
 nothing was to be seen or heard but naked or mossy rocks 
 covered with snow, fitful gusts blowing the clouds backwards 
 and forwards, the iiistling of waterfalls, the tinkling of sump- 
 ter-horses in the depth of solitude, where we saw none coming 
 and none departing. It did not cost the imagination much 
 to see dragons' nests in the clefts. But, nevertheless, we felt 
 iuspii'ed and elevated by one of the most beautiful and pic- 
 turesque waterfalls, sublimely various in all its rocky steps, 
 which, being at this time of the year enriched by melted 
 snows, and now half hidden by the clouds, now half revealed, 
 chained us for some time to the spot. 
 
 Finally, we came to little mist-lakes, as I might call them, 
 since they were scarcely to be distinguished from the atmo- 
 spheric streaks. Before long, a building loomed towards us 
 out of the vapom* : it was the Hospice, and we felt gieat 
 satisfaction at the thoughts of shclteiing oiu-selves under its 
 hospitable roof. 
 
 Vol. II.
 
 NINETEENTH BOOK, 
 
 Announced by the low bai'king of a little dog which ran out 
 to meet us, we were cordially received at the door by an 
 elderly but active female. She apologised for the absence 
 of the Pater, who had gone to Milan, but was expected home 
 that evening ; and immediately, without any more words, set 
 to work to provide for our comfort and wants. We were 
 shown into a warm and spacious room, where bread, cheese, 
 and some passable wine were set before us, with the promise 
 of a more substantial meal for our supper. The surprise of the 
 day was now talked over, and my friend was not a little proud 
 that all had gone off so well, and that we had passed a day 
 the impressions of which neither poetry nor prose coidd ever 
 reproduce. 
 
 At length with the twilight, which did not here come on till 
 late, the venerable father entered the room, greeted his guests 
 with dignity but in a friendly and cordial manner, and in a few 
 words ordered the cook to pay all possible attention to om* v.dshes. 
 When we expressed the wonder we coidd not repress, that he 
 could like to pass his life up here, in the midst of such a perfect 
 wilderness, out of the reach of all society, he assured us that 
 society was never wanting, as our own welcome visit might 
 testify. A lively ti-ade, he told us, was kept up between Italy 
 and Germany. This continual traffic brought him into rela- 
 tion with the first mercantile houses. He often went down to 
 !W(,ilan, and also to Lucern, though not so frequently, from 
 which "place, however, the houses which had charge of the 
 posting on the main route, frequently sent young people to 
 him, who, here at the point of passage between the two coun- 
 tries, required to be made acquainted Avith all the circum- 
 stances and events connected A-idth such affairs. 
 
 Amid such varied conversation the evening passed away, 
 and we slept a quiet night on somewhat short sleeping-places, 
 fastened to the wall, and more like shelves than bedsteads. 
 
 Rising early, I soon found myself mider the open sky, but 
 in a narrow space surrounded by tall mountain-tops. I sat 
 down upon the foot-path which led to Italy, and attempted.
 
 DISTANT VI KW OF ITALY. 131 
 
 after the manner of dilettanti, to draw what could not be 
 drawn, still less make a picture, namely, the nearest moun- 
 tain-tops, whose sides, with their white fm-rows and black 
 ridges, were gradually made visible by the melting of the 
 snow. Nevertheless, that fruitless effort has impressed the 
 image indelibly on my memory. 
 
 My companion stepped briskly up to me, and began : " What 
 say you of the story of our spiritual host, last evening ? Have 
 not you as well as myself, felt a desire to descend from this 
 dragon's height into those charming regions below ? A ram- 
 ble through these gorges must be glorious and not veiy toil- 
 some ; and when it ends with Bellinzona, what a pleasui'e that 
 must be ! The v.'ords of the good father have again brought 
 a living image before my soul of the isles of the Lago Mag- 
 giore. We have heard and seen so much of them since 
 Keyssler's travels, that I cannot resist the temptation.'' 
 
 " Is it not so with you too ? " he resimied; '• you are sitting 
 on exactly the right spot ; I stood there once, but had not 
 the courage to jump down. You can go on without cere- 
 mony, wait for me at Airolo, I will follow with the courier 
 when I have taken leave of the good father and settled everv- 
 thing." 
 
 " Such an enterprise," I replied, " so suddenly undertaken, 
 does not suit me." '-WTiat's the iise of deliberating so much r " 
 cried he ; " we have money enough to get to Milan, where we 
 shall find credit ; through our fair, I know more than one mer- 
 cantile friend there." He grew still more m-gent. "Go!" 
 said I, " and make all ready for the departure, then we will 
 decide." 
 
 In such moments it seems to me as if a man feels no reso- 
 lution in himself, but is rather governed and determined by 
 earUer impressions. Lombardy and Italy lay before me, 
 altogether foreign land; while Germany, as a well-known 
 dear home, full of friendly, domestic scenes, and where, let me 
 confess it, — was that which had so long entirely enchained 
 me, and on which my existence was centred, remained even 
 now the most indispensable element, beyond the limits of 
 which I felt afraid to step. A little golden b.enrt. which in 
 my happiest hours, I had received from her, still hung love- 
 warmed about my neck, suspended by the same ribbon to 
 which she had tied it. Snatchino- it from mv bosom, I loaded 
 
 K 2
 
 132 TKUXH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OAV>- LIFE. 
 
 it with kisses. This incident gave rise to a poem, which I 
 here insert: — 
 
 Round my neck, suspended, as a token 
 
 Of those joys, that swiftly pass'd away. 
 
 Art thou here that thou may 'st lengthen love's short day, 
 
 Stni binding, when the bond of souls is broken? 
 
 Lilli, from thee I flv : yet I am doom"d to feel 
 
 Thy fetters still. 
 
 Though to sti-ange vales and mountains I depart, 
 
 Yes, LilUs heart must yet remain 
 
 Attached to my fond heart. 
 
 Thus the bird, snapping his string in twain. 
 
 Seeks his wood, — his own.. 
 
 Still a mark of bondage bearing. 
 
 Of that string a fragment wearing. 
 
 The old — the freo-bom bird — he cannot be again, 
 
 ^Mien once a master he has kuo'«"n. 
 
 Seeing my friend with the guide, who earned our knapsack, 
 come storming up the heights, I rose hastily and removed 
 from the precipice, where I had been watching his return, 
 lest he should drag me doMTi into the abyss with him. I also 
 saluted the pious father, and turned, -v^-ithout saying a word, 
 to the path by which we had come. ]My friend followed me, 
 somewhat hesitating, and in spite of his love and attachment 
 to me, kept for a long tunc at a distance behind, till at last 
 a glorious waterfall brought us again together for the rest of 
 our journey, and what had been once decided, was from 
 henceforth looked upon as the basest and the best. 
 
 Of om* descent I wU] only remark that we now foimd the 
 snow-bridge, over which we had securely travelled •with a 
 heavj'-laden train a few days before, all fallen in, and that now, 
 as Ave had to make a circuit round the opened thicket, we 
 were filled with astonishment and admiration by the colossal 
 fragments of that piece of natural architecture. 
 
 Sly friend could not quite get over his disappointment at 
 not returnuig into Italy; very likely he had thought of the 
 plan some time before, and with amiable cmming had hoped 
 to surprise me on the spot. On this account our return did 
 not proceed so merrily as om* advance : but I was occupied all
 
 KUSXA.CHT — TELL. 133 
 
 the more constantly on my silent route, with trying to fix. at 
 least in its more comprehensible and characteristic details, 
 that sense of the sublime and vast, which, as time advances, 
 usually grows conti-actcd in our minds. 
 
 Not without many both new and rcne^^•cd emotions and 
 reflections did we pass over the remarkable heights about the 
 Vierwaldstatter Lake, on our way to Kiissnacht, Avhere hav- 
 ing landed and pursued our ramble, we had to greet Tell's 
 chapel, which lay on our route, and to reflect upon that assas- 
 sination which, in the eyes of the whole world, is so heroical, 
 patriotic, and glorious. So, too, we sailed over the Zuger 
 Lake, which we had seen in the distance as we looked down 
 fi'oni Rigi. In Zug, I only remember some painted glass, 
 inserted into the casement of a chamber of the inn, not large 
 to be sm-e, but excellent in its way. Om- route then led over 
 the Albis into the Sihl valley, where, by visiting a yoimg 
 Hanoverian, Yon Lindau, who delighted to live there in soli- 
 tude, we sought to mitigate the vexation which he had felt 
 some time before in Zm-ich, at our declining the ofier of his 
 company not m the most friendly or polite manner. The 
 jealous friendship of the worthy Passavant was really the 
 reason of my rejecting the truly dear, but inconvenient presence 
 of another. 
 
 But before we descend again from these glorious heights, 
 to the lake and to the pleasantly situated cit}% I must make 
 one more remark upon my attempts to caiTy away some idea, 
 of the country by drawing and sketching. A habit fi-om 
 youth upward of vicM'ing a landscape as a picture, led me, 
 whenever I observed any pictm-esque spot in the natural 
 scenery, to try and fix it, and so to preserve a sure memorial 
 of such moments. But having hitherto only exercised myself 
 on confined scenes, I soon felt the incompetency of my art for 
 such a world. 
 
 The haste I was in at once compelled me to have recom-sc 
 to a singidar expedient : scarcely had I noticed an interesting 
 object, and with light and very sketchy strokes drawn the 
 outlines on the paper, than I noted doA\Ti, in wOrds, the par- 
 tic\dar objects which I had no time to catch and fill up wtli 
 the peneil, and, by this means, made the scones so thoroughly 
 present to my mind, that every locality, whenever I afterwards 
 wanted it for a poem or a story, floated at once before me and 
 was entirely at my command.
 
 134 TiitrTH AND poetky: from my own life. 
 
 Ou returning to Zurich, I fomid the Stolbergs were gone; 
 their stay in this city had been cut short in a singnhu* 
 manner. 
 
 It must be confessed that travellers upon removing to a 
 distance fi'om the restraints of home, are only too apt to think 
 they are stepping not only into an unknown, but into a per- 
 fectly free world ; a delusion which it was the more easy to 
 indulge in at tliis time, as there was not as yet any passports 
 to be examined by the police, or any tolls and such like checks 
 and hindrances on the liberty of travellers, to remind men 
 that abroad they are subject to still worse and more painful 
 restraints than at home. 
 
 If the reader will only bear in mind this decided tendency 
 to realize the fi-eedom of nature, he will be able to pardon the 
 3omig spirits who regarded Switzerland as the very place 
 in wiiieh to " Idyllize " the fresh independence of youth. 
 The tender poems of Gessner, as weU as his charming sketches, 
 fscemed decidedly to justify this expectation. 
 
 In fact, bathing in wide waters seems to be one of the best 
 quahfications for expressing such poetic talents. Upon om- 
 jomuej' thus far, such natural exercises had not seemed 
 exactly suitable to modern customs, and we had, in some 
 degi'ee, abstained from them. But, in Switzerland, the sight 
 of the cool stream, — flov.-ing. running, rushing, then gather- 
 ing on the plain, and gradually spreading out to a lake, — ■ 
 presented a temptation that was not to be resisted. I can 
 not deny that I joined my companions in bathing in the clear 
 lake, but we chose a spot iar enough, as we supposed, from 
 all human eyes. But naked bodies shine a good way, and 
 whoever chanced to see us doubtless took offence. 
 
 The good innocent youths who thought it nowise shocking 
 to see themselves half naked, like poetic shepherds, or entirely 
 naked, like heathen deities, Avere admonished by their 
 friends to leave off all such practices. They were given to 
 amderstand that they were livii}g not in primeval nature, but 
 in a land where it was esteemed c-ood and salutarv to adhere 
 to the old institutions and customs which had been handed 
 doAvn from the middle ages. They were not disinclined to 
 acknowledge the propriety of all this, especially as the appeal 
 was made to the middle ages, M-hich, to them, seemed vener- 
 able as a second natm-e. Accordingly, tliey left the more
 
 ANECDOTE OF THE STOLBEKGS. 135 
 
 public lake shores, but when in their walks through the 
 mountains, they fell in with the clear, rustling, refreshing 
 streams, it seemed to them impossible, in the middle of July, 
 to abstain from the refreshing exercise. Thus, on their wide 
 sweeping walks, thej^ came also to the shady vale, where the 
 Sihl, streaming behind the Albis, shoots down to empty itself 
 into the Limmat below Zurich. Far from cvciy habitation, 
 and even from all trodden foot-paths, they thought there could 
 be no objection here to their throwing off their clothes and 
 boldly meeting the foaming waves. This was not indeed 
 done without a shriek, without a wild shout of joy, excited 
 partly by the chiU and partly by the satisfaction, by which 
 they thought to consecrate these gloomy, Avooded rocks into 
 an Idyllic scene. 
 
 But, whether persons previously ill-disposed had crept after 
 them, or whether this poetic tumult called forth adversaries 
 even in the solitude, cannot be determined. Suffice it to say, 
 stone after stone was thi-own at them from the motionless 
 bushes above, whether by one or more, whether accidentally 
 or purposely, they could not tell ; however, they thought it 
 wisest to renounce the quickening element and look after 
 their clothes. 
 
 No one got hit; they sustained no injury but the moral one 
 of surprise and chagrin, and full of young life as they were, 
 they easily shook off the recollection of tliis awkward affair. 
 
 But tlic most disagreeable consequences fell ujjon Lavater, 
 who was blamed for having given so friendly a welcome to 
 such saucy youths, as even to have arranged walks with them, 
 and otherwise to shew attention to persons whose wild, un- 
 bridled, imchiistian, and even heathenish habits, had caused 
 so nmch scandal to a moral and well-regulated neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 Our clever friend, however, who well knew how to smooth 
 . over such unpleasant occm-renccs, contrived to hush up this 
 one also, and after the departure of these meteoric travellers, 
 we foimd, on oiu' return, peace and quiet restored. 
 
 In the fragment of Werther's travels, which has lately been 
 reprinted in the sixteenth volume of my works, I have 
 attempted to describe this contrast of the commendable order 
 and legal restraint of Switzerland, with that life of nature 
 which youth in its delusions so loudly demands. But, a»
 
 136 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROJI MY OWX LIFE. 
 
 people generally are apt to take all that the poet advances 
 without reserve for his decided opinions, or even didactic 
 censui-e, so the Swiss were very much oflPended at the com- 
 parison, and I, therefore, dropped the intended continuation, 
 which was to have represented, more or less in detail, Wer- 
 ther's progress up to the epoch of his sorrows, and which, 
 therefore, would certainly have been interesting to those who 
 wish to study mankind. 
 
 Arrived at Zurich, I dc^•oted my time almost exclusively 
 to Lavater, whose hospitality I again made use of. The Phy- 
 siognomy, with all its portraits and monstrous caricatiu-es, 
 weighed heavily and with an ever-increasing load on the 
 ?ihoulders of the worthy man. We aiTanged all as well as we 
 could under the circumstances, and I promised him, on my 
 return home, to continue my assistance. 
 
 I was led to give this promise by a certain youthful un- 
 limited confidence in my own quicknessof comprehension, and 
 still more by a feeling of my readiness of adaptation to any 
 subject ; for, in truth, the way in which Lavater dissected phy- 
 siognomies was not at all in my vein. The impression which at 
 our first meeting, he had made upon me, determined, in some 
 degree, my relation to him; although a general wish to oblige 
 which was always strong, joined to the light-heartedncss of 
 youth, had a great share in all my actions by causing me 
 to see things in a certain twilight atmosphere. 
 
 Lavater's mind was altogether an imposing one; in his 
 society it was impossible to resist his decided influence, and I 
 had no choice but to submit to it at once and set to work ob- 
 serving foreheads and noses, eyes and mouths, in detail, and 
 weighing their relations and proportions. Mj fellow observer 
 did this from necessity, as he had to give a perfect accoimt of 
 what he himself had discerned so clearly ; but to me it always 
 seemed like a trick, a piece of espionage, to attempt to ana- 
 lyse a man into his elements before his face, and so to get 
 upon the track of his hidden moral peculiarities. I had more 
 pleasure in listening to his conversation, in which he unveiled 
 himself at will. And yet, I must confess, I always felt a 
 degree of constramt in Lavater's presence ; for, while by his 
 art of physiognomy, he possessed himself of our peculiarities, 
 he also made himself, by conversation, master of our thoughts, 
 which, with a little sagacity, he would easily guess from our 
 variety of phrases.
 
 LATATER HIS CHAKACTEK AXD WORKS. 137 
 
 He who feels a pregnant sjTithesis in himself, has pecu- 
 liarly a right to analyse, since by tlie outward particulars he 
 tests and legitimizes his inward whole. How Lavater ma- 
 naged in such cases, a single example will suffice to show. 
 
 On Sundays, after the sermon, it was his duty, as an eccle- 
 siastic, to hold the short- handled, velvet, alms-bag before each 
 one who went out, and to bless as he received the pious gift. 
 Now, on a certain Sunday he proposed to himself, without 
 looking at the several persons as they dropped in their offer- 
 ings, to observe only their hands, and by them, silently, to 
 judge of the forms of theii- OA>iier. Not only the shape of the 
 finger, but its peculiar action in di'opping the gift, was atten- 
 tively noted by him, and he had much to conununicate to me 
 on the conclusions he had formed. How instructive and 
 exciting must such conversations have been to one, Avho also 
 was seeking to qualify himself for a painter of men ! 
 
 Often in my after life had I occasion to think of Lavater, 
 who was one of the best and worthiest men that I ever formed 
 so intimate a relation with. These notices of him that I have 
 introduced in this work were accordingly written at various 
 times. Following our divergent tendencies, we gradually 
 became strangers to each other, and yet I never could bring 
 myself to part with the favorable idea which his worth had 
 left upon my mind. In thought I often brought him before 
 me, and thus arose these leaves, which, as they were writ- 
 ten .without reference to and independently of each other, 
 may contain some repetitions, but, it is hoped, no contra- 
 dictions. 
 
 By his cast of mind, Lavater Avas a decided realist, and 
 knew of nothing ideal except in a moral form ; by keeping 
 this remark steadily in mind, you vrill most readily under- 
 stand this rare and singular man. 
 
 His Prospects of Eternity look merely for a contiiniauce of 
 the present state of existence, under easier conditions than 
 those which we have now to endure. His Physiognomy rests 
 on the conviction that the sensible corresponds throughout 
 with the spiritual, and is not only an evidence of it, but 
 indeed its representative. 
 
 The ideals of art found little favor with him, because with
 
 138 TEtTTH AJv-D poetry; FEOJI my OWN" LIFE. 
 
 his sharp look he saw too clearly the impossibility of such 
 conceptions ever being embodied in a living organization, and 
 he therefore banished them into the realm of fable, and even 
 of monstrosity. 
 
 His incessant demand for a realization of the ideal gained 
 him the reputation of a visionary, although he maintained and 
 felt convinced that no man insisted more strongly on the 
 actual than he did; accordingly, he never could detect the 
 error in his mode of thinkins- and actina;. 
 
 Seldom has there been a man who strove more passionately 
 than he did for public recognition, and thus he was particu- 
 larly fitted for a teacher; but if aU his labors tended to the 
 intellectual and moral improvement of others, this was by no 
 means their ultimate aim. 
 
 To realize the character of Christ was what he hnd most at 
 heart ; hence that almost insane zeal of his to have pictm-es 
 of Christ dra\\^l, copied, moulded, one after another ; none of 
 which, however, as to be expected, ever satisfied him. 
 
 His writings are hard to understand, even now, for it is far 
 from easy to penetrate into his precise meaning. No one 
 ever wTote so much of the times, and for the times, as Lava- 
 ter ; his writings ai"e veritable journals, which in an especial 
 manner require to be explained by the history of the day; 
 they, moreover, are written in the language of a coterie, 
 which one must fii'st acquaint oneself with, before we can 
 hold communion with them, othervrise many things will 
 appear stupid and absm-d even to the most intelligent reader. 
 Indeed, objections enough of the kind have been made against 
 this author, both in his lifetime and since. 
 
 Thus, for example, with om- rage for dramatizing and repre- 
 senting under tliis form all that struck us, and cai-ing for 
 no other, we once so warmed his brain with a di-amatic 
 ardom-, that, in his Pontius Pilate, he labored veiy hard to 
 show that there is no more dramatic work than the Bible; 
 and, especially, that the history of Christ's Passion must be 
 regarded as the drama of all di'amas. 
 
 In this chapter, and mdeed throughout the work, Lavater 
 appears greatly to resemble Father Abraham of Santa Clara; 
 for into this mamier every riclily gifted mind necessarily falls 
 who wishes to work upon his contemporai'ies. He must 
 acquaint himself with existing tendencies and passions, with
 
 XAVATEB HIS CHAKACTEE AKD "WOKKS. 139 
 
 the speech and terminology of the day, and adapt them to 
 his ends, in order to approach the mass whom he seeks to 
 influence. 
 
 Since Lavatcr took Christ literally, — as described by the 
 Scriptures, and by most commentators, — ^he let this represen- 
 tation serve so far for the supplement of his on\ti being, that 
 he ideally incorporated the God-man into his own individual 
 humanity, until he finally was able to imagine himseK melted 
 into one and iinited with him, and, indeed, to have become 
 the same person. 
 
 This decidedly literal faith had also worked in him a per- 
 fect conviction that miracles can be wrought to-day as well 
 as heretofore. Accordingly, since in some important and 
 ti-ying emergencies of his earlier days, he had by means of 
 earnest and indeed violent prayer, succeeded in procuring an 
 instantaneous and favorable turn of the impending calamitj% 
 no nifire cold objections of the reasoning intellect would make 
 him for a moment waver in this faith. Penetrated, more- 
 over, by the idea of the greatness and excellence of Humanity 
 as restored by Christ, and thi-ough Him destined to a blissful 
 immortality, but, at the same time, fully sensible of the mani- 
 fold requisitions of man's heart and mind, and of his insatiable 
 yearnings after laiowledge, and, moreover, feeling in himself 
 that desire of expanding himself into the infinite to which the 
 starry heavens seem so sensibly to invite ;is, he -s^Tote under 
 these feelings his ^'Prospects of Eternity," which must have 
 ajjpeared a vei^^ strange book indeed to the greater part of 
 his contemporaries. 
 
 All this striving, hovrever, all wishes, all undertakings, 
 were overborne by the genius for physiognomy, which nature 
 had bestowed upon him. For, as the touchstone, by its 
 blackness and peculiar roughness of surface, is eminently 
 fitted to distinguish bet\s-ecn the metals which are apphed to 
 it ; so that pure idea of humanity, which Lavater carried 
 ■within himself, and that sharp yet delicate gift of observation, 
 which at first he exercised from natural ini]nilse occasionally 
 only and accidentally, but afterwards with deliberate reflection 
 and regularly, qualified him m the highest degree to note the 
 pcculip.rities of individual men, and to understand, distinguish, 
 and express them.
 
 140 TKtlTH AXD poetry; FROM JfY OWX LIFE. 
 
 Every talent whieli rests on a decided natural gift, seems 
 from our inability- to subordinate either it or its operations to 
 any idea to have something of magic about it. And, in truth, 
 Lavater's insight into the characters of individuals surpassed 
 all conception ; one was utterly amazed at his remarks, when 
 in confidence we were talking of this or that person ; nay, it 
 was frightful to live near a man who clearly discerned the 
 nicest Hmits by which nature had been pleased to modify and 
 distinguish our various personalities. 
 
 Every one is apt to believe that what he possesses himself 
 may be communicated to others ; and so Lavater was not 
 content to make use of this great gift for himself alone, but 
 insisted that it mio;ht be found and called forth in others, nay 
 that it might even be imparted to the great mass. The many 
 duU and malicious misinterpretations, the stupid jests in 
 abundance, and detracting railleries, this striking doctrine 
 gave rise to, may still be remembered by some men; how- 
 ever, it must be o^\Tied that the worthy man himself was not 
 altogether without blame in the matter. For though a high 
 moral sense preserved the unity of his inner being, yet, with 
 his manifold labors, he was unable to attain to outward unity, 
 since he did not possess the slightest capacity for philo- 
 sophical method, nor for artistic talent. 
 
 He was neither Thinker nor Poet; indeed, not even an 
 orator, in the jjroper sense of the term. Utterly unable to 
 take a compreheiusive and methodical \-iew, he nevertheless 
 formed an unerring judgment of individual cases and these he 
 noted down boldly side by side. His gi-eat work on Phy- 
 siognomy is a striking proof and illustration of this. In him- 
 self, the idea of the moral or of the sensual man might form a 
 whole ; but out of himself he could not represent this idea, 
 except practically by indi\'idual cases, in the same wiiy as he 
 himself had apprehended them in life. 
 
 That very work sadly shows us how in the commonest 
 matter of experience so sharp-sighted a man, may go groping 
 about him. For after spending an immense sum and employ- 
 ing every artist and botcher living, he procured at last di"a-\v- 
 ings and engravings, which were so far without character, 
 that he is obliged in his work to say after each one that it is 
 more or less a failure, unmeaning and worthless. True, by 
 this means, he sharpened his own judgment, and the judg-
 
 ABUSE OF THE TKF.M GENIUS. 141 
 
 ■mcnt of others ; but it also proves that his mental bias led 
 him rather to heap up cases of experience, than to diaw from 
 them any clear and sober principle. For this reason he never 
 could come to results, though I often pressed him for them. 
 What in later life he confided as such to his friends, were 
 none to me ; for they consisted of nothing more than a col- 
 lection of certain lines and features, nay, warts and freckles, 
 with which he had seen certain moral, and frequently im- 
 moral, peculiarities associated. There were certainly some 
 remarks among them that surprised and liveted your atten- 
 tion ; but they formed no scries, one thing followed another 
 accidentally, there was no gradual advance towards any 
 general deductions and no reference to any principles pre- 
 viously estabhshed. And indeed there was just as little of 
 literary method or artistic feeling to be found in his other 
 Avritings, which invariably contained passionate and earnest 
 expositions of his thoughts and objects, and supplied by the 
 most affecting and appropriate instances, what they could 
 not accompUsh by the general conception. 
 
 The following reflections, as they refer to those circum- 
 stances, may be aptly introduced here. 
 
 No one willingly concedes superiority to another, so long as 
 he can in any way deny it. Natm-al gifts of every kind can 
 the least be denied, and yet by the common mode of speaking 
 in those times, genius was ascribed to the poet alone. But 
 another world seemed all at once to rise up ; genius was 
 looked for in the physician, in the general, in the statesman, 
 and before long, in all men, who thought to make themselves 
 eminent either in theory or practice. Zimmerman, especially, 
 had advanced these claims. Lavatcr, by his views of Phy- 
 siognomy, was compelled to assume a more general distribu- 
 tion of mental gifts by nature ; the word genius became a 
 universal symbol, and because men heard it uttered so often, 
 they thought that what was meant by it, was habitually at 
 hand. But then, since evciy one felt himself justified in 
 demanding genius of others, he finally believed that he also 
 must possess it himself. The time was yet far distant when 
 it could be affirmed, that genius is that power of man which 
 by its deeds and actions gives laws and rules. At this time 
 it was thought to manifest itself only, by overstepping exist-
 
 142 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LITE. 
 
 ing laws, breaking establislied rules, and declaring itself above 
 all restraint. It was, therefore, an easy thing to be a genius, 
 and nothing was more natural than that extravagance both of 
 word and deed should provoke all orderly men to oppose 
 themselves to such a monster. 
 
 \Vhen anybody rushed into the world on foot, without 
 exactly knowing why or whither, it was called a pass of 
 genius; and when any one undertook an aimless and use- 
 less absiu-dity, it was a stroke of genius. Young men, of viva- 
 cious and true talents, too often lost themselves in the limit- 
 less ; and then older men of understanding, wanting perhaps 
 in talent and in soid, found a most malicious gratification in 
 exposing to the public gaze, their manifold and ludicrous 
 miscarriages. 
 
 For my part, in the development and the expression of my 
 own ideas, I perhaps experienced far more hindrance and 
 checks from the false co-operation and interference of the 
 like-minded, than by the opposition of those whose tiurn of 
 mind was directly contrary to my own. 
 
 "With a strange rapidity, words, epithets, and phrases, 
 which have once been cleverly employed to disparage the 
 highest intellectual gifts, spread by a sort of mechanical repe- 
 tition among the multitude, and in a short time they are to 
 be heard everj'whcre, even in common life, and in the mouths 
 of the most imeducated ; indeed before long they even creep 
 into dictionaries. In this way the Avord genius had suffered 
 so much from misrepresentation, that it was almost desired 
 to banish it entirely from the German language. 
 
 And so the Gennans. with whom the common voice is more 
 apt to prevail than ■ndth other nations, would perhaps have 
 sacrificed the faii-est flower of speech, the word which, though 
 apparently foreign, really belongs to every people, had not 
 the sense for what is highest and best in man, been happily 
 restored and solidly established by a profounder philosophy. 
 
 In the preceding pages mention has been fi-equently made 
 of the youthful times of two men, whose memory will never 
 fade from the history of German literatm-e and moiuls. At 
 this period, however, we came to know them as it were only 
 "by the errors into which they were misled by a false maxim 
 which preyailed among their youthful contemporaries. No-
 
 liA-TATERS SKETCH OF THK STOLBEKGS. 143 
 
 thiiig, therefore, can be more proper than with due apprecia- 
 tion and respect to paint their natural foi-m, their peculiar 
 individuality, just as it appeared at that time, and as their 
 immediate presence exhibited itself to the penetrating eye 
 of Lavater. Consequently, since the heavy and expensive 
 volumes of the great work on Physiognomy are probably 
 accessible to a few only of our readers, I have no scruple iu 
 inserting here the remarkable passages of tliat work, which 
 refer to both the Stolbergs, in the second part and its thirtieth 
 fragment, page 224 : 
 
 " The young men, whose poi*traits and profiles we have 
 here before us, are the first men who ever sat and stood to 
 me for physiognomical description, as another Avould sit to a 
 painter for his portrait. 
 
 " I knew them before, the noble ones — and I made the 
 first attempt, iu accordance with nature and Avith aU my pre- 
 A-ious knowledge, to observe and to describe their character. 
 
 " Here is the description of the whole man. — 
 
 FIRST, OF THE YOUNGER. 
 
 " See the blooming youth of 25 ! the lightly-floating, buoy- 
 ant, elastic creature! it does not lie; it does not stand; it 
 does not lean; it does not fly; it floats or swims. Too fuUof 
 life, to rest ; too sujjple to stand firm ; too heavy and too weak, 
 to fly. 
 
 " A floating thing, then, which does not touch the earth ! In, 
 its whole contour not a single slack line ; but on the other hand 
 no sti-aight one, no tense one, none firmly arched or stifliy 
 curved ; no sharp entering angles, no rock-like projection of the 
 brow; no hardness; no stifliicss; no defiant roughness; no 
 threatening insolence; no iron wiU — all is elastic, wimiing, 
 but notliing iron; no stedfast and searching profundity; no 
 slow reflection, or prudent thoughtfulncss ; nowhere the rca- 
 soner with the scales held firmly in the one hand, and the 
 sword in the other; and yet not the least formality in look or 
 judgment! but still the most perfect straight-forwardness of 
 intellect, or rather the most immacidate sentiment of truth ! 
 Always the inward feeler, never the deep thinker ; never the 
 discoverer, the testing unfolder of ti"uth so quickly seen, so 
 quickly known, so quickly loved, and qmckly gi-aspcd. . . . 
 Perpetual soarer, a seer; idealizer; bcautifier; — that gives a
 
 144 XKUTH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OWN XIFE. 
 
 shape and form to all his ideas I Ever the half- intoxicated 
 poet, seeing only what he will see ; — not the sorrowfully lan- 
 guishing; not the sternly crushing; but the lofty, noble, 
 powerful! who with 'thu'st for the sun' [Sonnendurst), hovers 
 to and fro in the regions of air, strives aloft, and again — 
 sinks not to earth! but throws himself headlong to earth, 
 bather in the floods of the ' Rock-stream' [Felsenstrom), and 
 cradles himself ' in the thimder of the echoing rocks aroimd' 
 (/??^ Donner dcr hallendoi Felsen vfnher). His glance — not 
 the fire-glance of the eagle! His brow and nose — not the 
 courage of the lion! his breast — not the stedfastness of the 
 steed that neighs for battle ! In the whole, however, there is 
 much of the tearing activity of the elephant .... 
 
 " The projecting upper lip slightly drawn up towards the 
 over-hanging nose, which is neither sharply cut, nor angidar, 
 evinces, with such a closing of the mouth, much taste and 
 sensibility; while the lower part of the face bespeaks much 
 sensuality, indolence, and thoughtlessness. The whole outline 
 of the profile shoAvs openness, honesty, humanity, but at the 
 same time a liability to be led astray, and a high degree of 
 that good-hearted indiscretion, which injures no one but him- 
 self. The middle line of the mouth bespeaks in its repose, 
 a doT\Tiright. planless, weak, good-natm-ed disposition; when 
 in motion, a tender, finely-feeling, exceedingly susceptible, 
 benevolent, noble man. In the arch of the eyelids, and in 
 the glance of the eyes, there sits not Homer, but the deepest, 
 most thorough, and most quick feeling, and comprehension of 
 Homer; not the epic, but the lyric poet; genius, which fuses, 
 moulds, creates, glorifies, hovers, transforms all into a heroic 
 form — which deifies all. The half-closed eyelids, from such 
 an arch, indicate the keenly sensitive poet, rather than the 
 slowly laboring artist, who creates after a plan ; the whimsical 
 rather than the severe. The full face of the youth is much 
 more taking and attractive, than the somewhat too loose, too 
 protracted half- face: the fore-part of the face in its sUght- 
 est motion, tells of a highly sensitive, thoughtful, inventive, 
 untaught, inward goodness, of a softly tremidous, ■WTong- 
 abhorring love of Hberty — an eager vivacity. It cannot con- 
 ceal from the commonest observer the slightest impression 
 which it receives for the moment, or adopts for ever. Every 
 object, which nearly concerns or interests him, drives the
 
 LAVATERS SKKICH OF THi: SXOI.BKRGS. MS 
 
 "blood into the cheeks and nose; where honor is concerned, 
 the most maidenly blush of shame spreads like lightning over 
 the delicately sensitive skin. 
 
 " The complexion is not the pale one of all-creating, dl-con- 
 sumiug genius ; not the wildly glowing one of the contemp- 
 tuous destroyer; not the milk-white one of the blond; not 
 the olive one of the strong and hardy ; not the bro\'i'nish one 
 of the slowly plodding peasant; but the white, the red, and 
 the ^'iolet, running one into another, and so expressively, and 
 so happily, blended together like the strength and weakness 
 of the whole character. The soul of the whole and of each 
 single feature is freedom, and elastic activity, which springs 
 forth easily and is as easily repulsed. The whole fore-face and 
 the way the head is carried, promise magnanimity and upright 
 cheerfulness. Incorruptible sensibility, delicacy of taste, purity 
 of mind, goodness and nobleness of soul, active power, a feel- 
 ing of strength and of ^^•eakness, shine out so transparently 
 through the whole face, that what were otherwise a lively 
 self-complacency dissolves itself into a noble modesty, and 
 most artlessly and unconstrainedly the natural pride and vanity 
 of youth melt with the loveliness of twilight into the easy 
 majesty of the whole man. The whitish hair, the length and 
 awkwardness of fomi, the softness and lightness of step, the 
 hesitating gait, the flatness of the breast, the fair unfurrowed 
 brow, and various other features spread over the whole man a 
 certain feminine air, by which the inward quickness of action 
 is moderated, and every intentional offence and every mean- 
 ness made for ever impossible to the heart ; but at the same 
 time clearly e\-incing that the spirited and fiery poet, with all 
 his unaffected thii-st for freedom and for emancipation, is 
 neither destined to be a man of business, thoroughly persist- 
 ent, who steadily and resolutely carries out his plans, or to 
 become immorttd in the bloody strife. And now, in conclu- 
 sion, I remark, for the first time, that I have as yet said 
 nothing of the most striking trait — ^the noble simplicity, free 
 from all affectation ! Notliing of his childlike openness of lieart! 
 Nothing of the entire miconsciousness of his outward nobility ! 
 Nothing of the inexpressible bonhommic with which he accepts 
 and bears reproaches or warnings, nay, even accusations and 
 wrongful charges. 
 
 " But who can find au end, who wiU undertake to tell all 
 Vol. II. I.
 
 146 XKL'TH AXP rOEXr.Y; I-ROM my own IjIFE. 
 
 that be sees or feels in a good man, in whom there is so much, 
 pure humanity?" 
 
 DESCKIPTION OF THE ELDER STOLBERG. 
 
 " What I have said of the younger brother — ^liow much of 
 it may be said also of the elder ! The principal thing I have 
 to remark is the following: — 
 
 " This figure and this character are more compact and less 
 diffuse than the former. There all was longer or flatter ; here 
 all is shorter, broader, more arched, and rounded; there all 
 was vague; here everything is more precise and sharply 
 defined. So the brow; so the nose; so the breast: more 
 compressed, more active, less diffuse, more of concen- 
 trated life and power! For the rest, the same amiableness 
 and honliommie! Not that striking openness, rather more of 
 reserve, but in principle, or rather in deed, the same honora- 
 ble tone. The same in^•incible abhorrence of injiistice and 
 baseness; the same irreconcilable hatred of all that is called 
 cunning and trickery; the same unyielding opposition to 
 tyranny and despotism; the same pure, incorruptible sensi- 
 bility to all that is noble, and great, and good; the same 
 need of friendship and of fi-eedom, the same sensitiveness and 
 noble thirst for glory; the same catholicity of heart for all 
 good, wise, sincere, and energetic men, renowned or unre- 
 nowned, lalo^\^l or misunderstood, — and the same light-hearted 
 inconsiderateness. No! not exactly the same. The face is 
 sharper, more contracted, firmer; has more inward, self- 
 developing capacity for business and practical counsels ; more 
 of enterprising spirit — which is shown especially by the 
 strongly prominent and fully roimded bones of the eye- 
 sockets. Not the all-blending, rich, pure, lofty poet's feeling 
 —not the ease and rapidity of the productive power which 
 marks the other — ^but yet he is, and that in profounder depths, 
 vivacious, upright, ardent. Not the any genius of light float- 
 ing away in the mox'uiug red of heaven, and fashioning huge 
 shapes thereiu — ^but more of inward power, though perhaps less 
 of expression ! more powerful and terrible — less of elegance 
 and finish; though his pencil nevertheless wants neither 
 coloring nor enchantment. More wit and riotous hiunor; 
 di'oll sathe; brow, nose, look — all so downward, so over- 
 hanging—decidedly what it should be for original and all-
 
 MV MEETING AGAIN WITH LILLI. 147 
 
 enlivening wit, which does not gather from without, but 
 brings forth from within. Above all in this character every 
 trait more prominent, more ang-ular, more aggressive, more 
 storming! No passive dullness, no relaxation, except in the 
 sunken eyes, where, as well as in the brow and nose, pleasure 
 evidently sits. In all besides — and even in tliis very brow, 
 this concentration of all — in this look indeed — there is an unmis- 
 takable expression of natural, tmacquired greatness ; strength, 
 impetuosity of manliness; constancy, simplicity, precision!" 
 
 After having in Darmstadt conceded to Merk the justice of 
 his opinions and allowed him to trimnph, in his having predicted 
 my speedy separation from these gay companions, I found 
 myself again in Frankfort, well received by every one, 
 including my father, although the latter could not conceal his 
 disappointment that I had not descended by the pass to Airolo, 
 and annovmced to liim from Milan my arrival in Italy. All 
 this was expressed by his silence rather than his words; but 
 above all he did not show the slightest sympathy with those 
 wild rocks, those lakes of mist, and dragons' nests. 
 
 At last, however, by an incidental remark, by no means 
 intended for a reproach, he gave me to imderstand how little 
 all such sights were worth: he v/ho has not seen Naples, he 
 observed, has lived to no end. 
 
 On my return I did not, I could not, avoid seeing LiUi ; the 
 position we maintained towards each other was tender and 
 considerate. I was informed that they had fully convinced 
 her in my absence, that she must break off her intimacy with 
 me, and that this was the more necessary and indeed more 
 practicable, since by my journey and voluntary absence, I had 
 given a sufficiently clear intimation of my o^vn intentions. 
 Neveilheless, the same localities in town and country, the same 
 friends, confidentially acquainted with aU the past, could 
 scai'cely be seen without emotion by either of us — still and 
 for ever lovers, although drawn apart in a mysterious way. 
 It was an accursed state, which in a certain sense resembled 
 Hades, or the meeting of the happy with the \uihappy 
 dead. 
 
 There Averc moments when departed days seemed to revive, 
 but instantly vanished again, like ghosts. 
 
 Some kind people had told me in confidence, that Lilli, 
 
 l2
 
 148 TSTJTH A>'D rOETRV; FKO.M MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 Avlien all the oostacles to our union were laid before her, had 
 declared that for my love she was ready to renounce all pre- 
 sent ties and advantages, and to go with me to America, 
 America was then perhaps, still more than now, the Eldorado 
 of all A-.ho foimd themselves crossed in the wishes of the 
 moment. 
 
 But the veiy thing which should have animated my hopes, 
 only depressed them the more. My handsome paternal house, 
 only a few hundred steps from hers, offered certainly a more 
 tolerable and more attractive habitation than an uncertain and 
 remote locality beyond the ocean ; still I do not deny, that in 
 her presence all hopes, all wishes sprang to life again, and 
 irresolution was stirring within me. 
 
 True, the injunctions of my sister were very peremptory and 
 precise ; not only had she, with all the shrewd penetration of 
 which she was mistress, explained the situation of things to 
 me, but she had also, Avith painfully cogent letters, hai-ped 
 upon the same text still more powerfully. '' It were very 
 well," said she, " if you could not help it, then you would 
 have to put up •\A-ith it ; such things one must suffer but not 
 choose. '' Some mouths passed away in this most miserable of 
 all conditions ; every circumstance had conspired against the 
 union ; in her alone I felt, I knew, lay the power which 
 could have overcome every difficulty. 
 
 Both the lovers, conscious of their jiosition, avoided all soli- 
 taiy interviews ; but, in company, they coidd not help meet- 
 ing in the usual formal way. It was now that the strongest 
 trial was to be gone through, as every noble and feeling soul 
 will acknowledge, when I have explained myself more fully. 
 
 It is generally allowed, that in a new acquaintance, in the 
 formation of a new attachment, the lover gladly cbaws a veil 
 over the past. Growing affection troubles itself about no 
 antecedents, and as it springs up like genius with the rapidity 
 of lightning, it knows nothing either of past or future. It is 
 true, my closer intimacy with Lilli had begun by her telling 
 me the story of her early youth : how, from a child up, 
 she had excited in many both a liking and devotion to herself, 
 especially in strangers visiting her father's gay and lively 
 house, and how she had found her pleasure in all this, though 
 it had been attended Avith no fm'ther consequences and had 
 lead to no permanent tie.
 
 LILLl's OLD LOVERS. 149 
 
 True, lovers consider all that they have felt before only as 
 preparation for their present bliss, only as the foundation on 
 which the structure of their future life is to be reared. Past 
 attachments seem like spectres of the night, which glide 
 away before the break of day. 
 
 But what occurred ! The fair came on, and with it appeared 
 the whole swarm of those spectres in their reality; all the 
 mercantile friends of the eminent house came one by one, and 
 it was soon manifest that not a man among them was willing 
 or able wholly to give up a certain claim to the lovely 
 daughter. The younger ones, without being obtrusive, still 
 seemed to claim the rights of familiar friends ; the middle- 
 aged, with a certain obliging dignity, like those who seek to 
 make themselves beloved, and who in all probability might 
 come forward with higher claims. There were fine men 
 among them, -R-ith the additional recommendation of a sub- 
 stantial fortune. 
 
 The older gentlemen, with their uncle s ways and manners, 
 were altogether intolerable ; they could not bridle their hands, 
 and in the midst of their disagreeable twaddle would demand 
 a kiss, for which the cheek was not refused. It was so natural 
 to her, gracefully to satisfy every one. The conversation, too, 
 excited many a painful remembrance. Allusion was constantly 
 made to pleasure parties by Avater and by land, to perils of all 
 kinds with their happy escapes, to balls and evening prome- 
 nades, to the amusement afforded by ridiculous wooers, and 
 to whatever could excite an luicomfortable jealousy in the 
 heart of an inconsolable lover, who had, as it were, foi a long 
 time ch'a-mi to himself the sum of so many years. But amid 
 all this crowd and gaiety, she did not push aside her fi'iend, 
 tmd when she turned to him. .she contrived, in a few M-ords, 
 to express all the tenderness which seemed allowable to their 
 present position. 
 
 But let us turn fi-om this torture, of which the memory even 
 is almost intolerable, to ])oesy, which affoi-dcd, at least, an 
 intellectual and heartfelt alleviation of my sufferings. - 
 
 " Lillis Menagerie"' belongs somewhere to this period; I 
 do not adduce the poem here, because it does not reveal the 
 softer sentiment, but seeks only, with genial earnestness, to 
 exaggerate the disagreeable, and by comical, and provoking 
 images, to change renimciation into despaii'.
 
 150 TRUTH AND POETKY; FR03X JJY OAVN LIFE. 
 
 The following song expresses rather the sweeter side of that 
 misery, and on that account is here inserted : 
 
 Sweetest roses, ye are drooping. 
 
 By my love ye were not worn ; 
 Bloom for one, who past tiU hoping. 
 
 Feels his soul by sorrow torn. 
 
 Oh, the days still live in thought, love. 
 When to thee, my angel, bound; 
 
 I my garden early sought, love. 
 
 And for thee the young buds found. 
 
 All the flowers and fruits I bore thee, 
 
 And I cast them at thy feet; 
 As I proudly stood before thee, 
 
 Then my heart vdih. hope woidd beat ! 
 
 Sweetest roses, ye are drooping. 
 
 By my love ye were not worn ; 
 Bloom for one, who past all hoping. 
 
 Feels his soul by soitow torn. 
 
 The opera of " ^/•2t'm and Elvira''' was suggested by the 
 pretty Httle romaunt or baUad introduced by Goldsmith in his 
 " Vicar of Wakefeld" which had given us so much pleasiure 
 in our happiest days, when we never di'eamed that a similar 
 fate awaited us. 
 
 I have already introduced some of the poetical productions 
 of this epoch, and I only >vish they had aU been preserved. 
 A never failing excitement in the happy season of love, 
 heightened by the beginning of care, gave birth to songs, 
 which throughout expressed no overstrained emotion, but 
 always the sincere feeling of the moment. From social songs 
 for festivals, down to the most trifling of presentation- verses 
 — aU was H^■ing and real and what a refined company had 
 sympathized in; first glad, then soiTowful, till finally there 
 was no height of bliss, no depth of woe, to which a strain was 
 iiot devoted. 
 
 All these internal feclLugs and outward doings, so far as 
 they were likely to vex and pain my father, were by my 
 mother's bustling prudence skilfully kept from him. Although 
 his hope of seeing me lead into his house, that first one (who
 
 PLAN OF EGMONT, 151 
 
 liad SO fully realised his ideas of a daughter-in-law) had 
 died away, still this "state-lady," as he used to call her in 
 his confidential conversations with his wife, would never 
 suit him. 
 
 Nevertheless he let matters take theu* course, and dili<;ently 
 occupied himself with his little Chancery. The young jm-istic 
 friend, as well as the dexterous amanuensis, gained continually 
 more and more of influence mider liis firm. As the absentee 
 was now no longer missed there, they let me take my own 
 way, and sought to establish themselves firmly upon a ground 
 on which I was not destined to tlnive. 
 
 Fortunately my own tendencies corresponded with the 
 sentiments and wishes of my fither. He had so great an 
 idea of my poetic talents, and felt so personal a pleasm-e in 
 the applause which my earliest efforts had obtained, that he 
 often talked to me on the subject of new and finther attempts. 
 On the other hand, I did not ventvu'e to communicate to hiui 
 any of these social efi'usions and poems of passion. 
 
 As, in Got:: von Berlivhingeii, I had in my own way mu"- 
 rored forth the image of an important epoch of the world, I 
 now again carefully looked round for another crisis in political 
 history of similar interest. Accordingly the Revolt of the 
 Netherlands attracted my attention. In Gotz, I had depicted 
 a man of parts and energy, sinking under the delusion that, 
 in times of anarchy, ability and honesty of pm'pose must have 
 their weight and influence. The design of Egmont was to 
 shew that the most firmly established institutions caimot 
 maintain themselves against a powerful and skfcwdly cal- 
 culating Despotism. I had talked so earnestly with my 
 father about what the piece ought to be, and what I wanted 
 to do, that it inspired him with an invincible desire to see 
 the plan which I had already worked out in my head, faii-ly 
 set down on paper, in order to its being printed and admired. 
 In earlier times, while I still hoped to gain Lilli's hand, I 
 had applied myself with the utmost diligence to the study 
 and practice of legal business, but now I sought to fiU the 
 fearful gulf which separated me from her, with occupations 
 of more intellect and soul. I therefore set to work in earnest 
 with the coraposltion of Egmont. Unlike the first Gotz von 
 Berlichivycn, however, it was not written in succession and 
 in order; but immediately after the fii'St introduction I went
 
 152 TRuxii AND poetky; pkom my oavn life. 
 
 at once to the main scenes without troubling myself about 
 the various connecting links. I made rapid progress, because 
 my father, knowing my fitful way of working, spurred me on 
 (literally and without exaggeration) day and night, and seemed 
 to believe that the plan, so easily conceived, might as easily 
 be executed.
 
 TWENTIETH BOOK. 
 
 Xnd so 1 got on rapidly with my "■Egmont;'" and wHIe I 
 found in this some alleviation of my wounded passion, the 
 society of a clever artist also helped me through many weari- 
 some hours. And thus, as had often before been the case, a 
 vague desire of practical improvement brought me a secret 
 peace of mind, at a time when it could scarcely be hoped for. 
 John Melchiok Kraus, who had been born at Frank- 
 fort, but educated in Paris, having just returned from a short 
 torn- to the north of Germany, paid me a visit, and I imme- 
 diately felt an impulse and a need to attach myself to him. 
 He was a cheerful merry fellow, whose Ught joyous disposition 
 had found its right sphere in Paris. 
 
 At that time Paris promised a pleasant welcome for Ger- 
 mans ; Philip Hackert was residing there in credit and 
 opulence; the true German style in which, both in oil and 
 water-colors, he foithfully excuted landscapes after nature, 
 met with great favor, as contrasted with the formal " man- 
 nerism'" into which the French had follcn. Wille, in high 
 esteem as a copperplate engraver, supported and made Ger- 
 man excellence more widely known. Grimm, already an 
 artist of some influence, rejoiced to help his countrymen. 
 Pleasant cxciu-sions, in order to take original sketches from 
 nature were constantly imdertakeu, in which much of un- 
 doubted excellence was either executed or designed. 
 
 Bou('tii;r and Watteau, both of them artists born, whose 
 works, though fluttering in the style and spirit of the time, 
 were always highly respectable, were favorably inclined to 
 the new school, and even took an active part in their excur- 
 sions, though only for the sake of amusement and experiment. 
 Greuze, living quietly by himself in his family circle, and 
 fond of representing such domestic scenes, seemed delighted 
 with his own works, hold an honored and easy pencil. 
 
 All these several styles our to^vnsman Kraus was able to 
 take up and blend with his own jjarticular talent ; he formed 
 himself iu school jxfter school, and was skilful in his portrait-
 
 154 TEUTii AND poetky; from my own life. 
 
 like delineations of family and friendly gatherings; equally 
 happy ^vas he in his landscape sketches, which cordially com- 
 mended themselves to the eye by their clear outHncs, mas- 
 sive shadows, and agTeeable coloring. The inward sense was 
 satisfied by a certain naive truth, while the admirer of artistic 
 skill was esjDecially pleased ^^'ith the tact by Avhich he arranged 
 and grouped into a picture what he had copied singly from 
 nature. 
 
 He was a most agreeable companion ; a cheerful equani- 
 mity never failed him ; obliging without obsequiousness, 
 reserved without pride, he was everywhere at home, every- 
 where beloved, the most active, and, at the same time, the 
 most manageable of all mortals. With such talents aud of 
 such a disposition, he soon won the favor of the higher circles ; 
 but he was especially well received at the castle of the Barou 
 von Stein, at Nassau on the Lahn, whose accomplished and 
 lovely daughter he assisted in her artistic studies, and iu 
 many ways enlivened the whole circle. 
 
 Upon the marriage of this excellent lady to the Coimt von 
 Werther, the newly wedded couple took the artist with them 
 to Thuringia. where the Count possessed a large estate, and 
 thus he got to Weimar. His acquaintance was immediately 
 sought, his talents were appreciated — and a wish expressed 
 that he would fix his permanent abode there. 
 
 Obliging as he v,as to everybody, upon his return at this 
 time to Frankfort, he stimulated my love of art, which had been 
 contented M-ith merely collecting, and to making practical 
 essays. The neighbourhood of the artist is indispensable to 
 tlie Dilettante, for the latter sees all that is wanting in him- 
 self supplied by the former ; the wishes of the amateur are 
 fulfilled in the artist. 
 
 By a certain natm-al talent, assisted by practice, I suc- 
 ceeded prett)' well in an outline, and I could give the shape of 
 all that I saw before me in nature ; but I wanted the peculiar 
 plastic power, the skilful industry, which lends a body to the 
 outline by well-graduated light and shade. My copies were 
 rather remote suggestions of the real form, and my figui'es 
 like those Hght airy beings in Dante's Purgatory, which, 
 castiag no shadow themselves, fled afiiighted at the shadows 
 of actual bodies. • 
 
 Lavater's fishing for physiognomical treasures — ^for so we
 
 KRAUS THE AF.TIST, 155 
 
 may well designate the importunate urgency with which he 
 called upon all men, not only to observe physiognomies, but 
 also practically to make, be it artistic or most bungling 
 attempts at copying faces, led me into the habit of taking 
 the portraits of all my friends on grey paper, with black and 
 white chalk. The likeness was not to be mistaken, but it 
 requii-ed the hand of my artistic friend to make them stand 
 out from the dark back-ground. 
 
 In tiu'ning over and looking tlu'ough the rich portfolio of draw- 
 ings which the good Kraus had taken during his travels, we had 
 most pleasant talk together when he came to the sketches of 
 scenes and persons in and about Weimar. On such paintings I, 
 too, was glad to dwell, and you may imagine that it must have 
 been flattering to the youug man, to see in so many pictures 
 only the test which was to lead to a cii'cumstantially repeated 
 exclamation : they woidd be glad to see him there. With 
 much grace he would imitate the different persons whose por- 
 traits he had taken and impersonate the greetings and invi- 
 tations he had received. One very successful oil-painting 
 represented the chapel-master. Wolf, at the piano, with his 
 ■wife behind him preparing to sing ; and this gave the artist 
 opportunity to assm-e me in earnest terms, of the wai"m wel- 
 come this worthy paii' woidd give me. Among his sketches 
 were several of the wood and mountain scenery arotmd Bur- 
 gel. Here an honest forester, more perhaps to please his 
 pretty daughters than himself, had by means of bridges, rail- 
 ings, and mossy paths, opened pleasant and sociable walks 
 through the rough masses of rocks, thickets, and plantations. 
 In one of these beautiful promenades he had painted the fair 
 damsels in white di-esses, and not without their attendant 
 cavaliers. In one of these you immediately recognized Ber- 
 tuch, whose serious designs upon the oldest daughter were 
 openly avowed; and Kraus was not ofi'ended if you ventured 
 to refer a second youth to himself, and guessed his growing 
 attachment to the sister. 
 
 Bektuch, as the pupil of Wieland, had so distinguished 
 himself in science and in business, that already appointed 
 private secretary of the Didie, he had the best possible pro- 
 spects before him. From him we passed to Wieland anc5 
 talked at length of his rectitude, and cheerfulness, and kindly 
 disposition ; his fine literary and poetical designs *vere dwelt
 
 156 TEUXH AX1> POETKY; IIIOM MY OAVN LIFE. 
 
 upon, and allusions were made to the influence o£ the Mercur 
 thi-oughout Germany; many otler names of litcraiy, political, 
 or social distinction were also mentioned, and among them. 
 Musasus, Kirms, Bcrendis, and Ludecus. Of women, the 
 >vife of Wolf, and a vadow Kotzebue, with a lovely daughter 
 and a bright boy, wore, among many others, characterized 
 and extolled. Everytliing seemed to point to a fresh and 
 active life of literature and art. 
 
 And so, by degrees, was exhibited aU the various elements 
 upon which the young Duke was, on his retm-u, to work. 
 His mother and guardian had prepared this state of things, 
 while, as regarded the introduction of more important 
 measures, all that, in accordance with the duty of such pro- 
 visional governments, was left to the judgment and decision 
 of the future sovereign. The sad ruin caused bj' the burning 
 of the palace was already looked upon as furnisliing occasion 
 for now improvements. The mines at Ilmenau, which had 
 stopped working, but which, it was asserted, might again be 
 made profitable by going to the great expense of repairing 
 the deep shaft; — the academy at Jena, which was somewhat 
 behind the spirit of the age, and was consequently threatened 
 with the loss of some of its most able teachers, — and many 
 other matters, roused a noble common interest. Already 
 were looks cast around for peisons, who, in the upward 
 struggle of German}-, might be qualified to further such 
 various designs for good, and the prospect seemed as fresh as 
 the vivacity and energy of j-outh could desu-e. And if it 
 seemed sad to bring a young princess not to a home, of a 
 suitable princely dignity, but to a very ordinary dwelling built 
 for quite a different object; still such beautifully situated and 
 well contrived countr}--houscs as Ettenburg, Belvedere, and 
 other delightful pleasure-seats, gave enjoyment for the pre- 
 sent, and also a hope that the life of nature thus rendered 
 necessary, might lead to profitable and agreeable occupa- 
 tions. 
 
 In the course of this biography, we have circTunstantiaUy 
 exhibited the child, the boy, the youth, seeking by different 
 ways to approach to the Suprasenslble first, looldng -with 
 strong inclination to a religion of nature ; then, clinging with 
 love to a positive one ; and, finally, concentrating himself in 
 the trial of his own poAvcrs, and joyfully giving himself up to
 
 THE DKMo.sTC EGMOJS'T. 157 
 
 the general faith. Whilst he wandored to and fro, space 
 which lay intermediate between the sensible and siiprasen- 
 sible regions, seeking and looking about him, much eanie in 
 his way which did not appear to belong to either, and he 
 seemed to see, more and more distinctly, that it is better to 
 avoid all thought of the immense and incomprehensible. 
 
 He thought he could detect in nature — both aiiimate and 
 inanimate, with soul or without eoul — something which mani- 
 fests itself only in contradictions, and which, therefore, could 
 not be comprehended under any idea, stiU less under one 
 word. It was not godlike, for it seemed unreasonable ; not 
 human, for it had no understanding ; nor devilish, for it was 
 beneficent; nor angelic, for it often betrayed a malicious 
 pleasure. It resembled chance, for it evolved no con- 
 sequences; it was like Pro\idence, for it hinted at connexion. 
 All that limits us it seemed to penetrate ; it seemed to sport 
 at will with the necessary elements of our existence : it con- 
 tracted time and expanded space. In the impossible alone 
 did it appear to find pleasm-e, while it rejected the possible 
 with oonteaupt. 
 
 To this principle, which seemed to come in between all 
 other principles to separate them, and yet to link them 
 together, I gave the name of Demonic, after the example of 
 the ancients and of those who, at any rate, had perceptions 
 of the same kind. I sought to screen myself from this fear- 
 fiil principle, by taking refuge, according to my usual habits, 
 in an imaginary creation. 
 
 Among the parts of history which I had particiJarly studied 
 with some care, were the events which have made the United 
 Netherlands so famous. I had diligently examined the origi- 
 nal som-ces, and had endeavoured, as far as possible, to get 
 my facts at first hand, and to bring the whole period vividly 
 before my mind's eye. The situations it presented appeared 
 to me to be in the highest degree dramatic, while, for a prin- 
 cipal figure, around whom the others might be grouped with 
 the happiest effect, there was Count Egmont, whose grpatness 
 as a man and a hero was most captivating. 
 
 But for my purpose it was necessary to convert him into a 
 character marked by such peculiarities as vrould grace a youth 
 better than a man in years, and an unmarried man better than 
 the father of a family; and one independent, rather than oue.
 
 158 TRUTH AND POETRY; EKOM MY OWN lilFE. 
 
 who, however freely disposed, is nevertheless restrained by 
 the various relations of life. 
 
 Having thus, in my conception of Egmont's character, 
 made him youthful, and set him free from all domestic 
 restraints, I ascribed to him unlimited enjoyment of life and 
 its pleasures, boundless self-reliance, a gift of drawing all men 
 to himself, and consequently also of winning the favor of the 
 people, and which, while it inspired a princess with a silent, 
 and a young child of nature Avith an avowed passion, won for 
 him the sympathy of a shrewd statesman, and even the loving 
 admiration of the son of his great adversary. 
 
 The personal courage wliich distinguishes the hero is the 
 foundation upon which hLs whole character rests, the ground 
 and soil from which it sprung. He knows no danger, and 
 willingly is blind to the greatest when it is close at hand. 
 Surrounded by enemies, we may, at any rate, cut our way 
 through Lhem ; the meshes of state policy are harder to break 
 through. The Demonical element, which is in play on both 
 sides, and in conflict with which the lovely falls while 
 the hated triumphs ; and, above all, the prospect that out of 
 this conflict will spring a third element, which will answer to 
 the wishes of all men ; — this perhaps is what has gained for 
 the piece (not, indeed, immediately on its first appearance, 
 but later and at the right time), the favor which it now 
 enjoys. Here, therefore, lor the sake of many beloved read- 
 ers, I win anticipate myself, and as I know not whether I 
 shall soon have another opportunity, will express a conviction 
 which, however, I did not form tiU a considerable period 
 subsequent to that of which I am now writing. 
 
 Although this Demonical clement can manifest itself in aU 
 ccrporeal and incorporeal things, and even expresses itseb 
 most distinctly in animals, yet, with man, especially does it 
 stand in a most wonderful connexion, forming in him a power 
 which, if it be not opposed to the moral order of the world, 
 nevertheless does often so cross it that one may be regarded 
 as the warp, and the other as the woof. 
 
 For the phenomena which it gives rise to there are innume- 
 rable names : for all philosophies and religions have sought 
 in prose and poetry to solve this enigma and to read once for 
 ail the riddle which, nevertheless, remains still unriddled by 
 them.
 
 THE PEMONIC INPXUENCE IX LIFE. 159 
 
 But the most fearful manifestation of the Demonical, is when. 
 it is seen predominating in some individual character. During 
 mv life I have obsei-ved several instances of this, either 
 more closely or remotely. Such persons are not ahvays the 
 most eminent men, either morally or intellectually, and it is 
 seldom that they recommend themselves to our affections by 
 goodness of hcait ; a tremendous energy seems to be seated 
 in them, and they exercise a "wonderful power over all crea- 
 tures, and even over the elements ; and, indeed, who shall say 
 how much farther such influence may extend ? All the moral 
 powers combined are of no avail against them ; in vain does the 
 more enlightened portion of mankind attempt to throw sus- 
 picion upon them as deceived if not deceivers — the mass is 
 still drawn on by them. Seldom if ever do the great men of 
 an age find their equals among their cotemporaries, and they 
 are to be overcome by nothing but by the universe itself; and 
 it is from observation of this fact that the strange, but most 
 striking, proverb must have risen: Nemo contra Deum nisi 
 Deus ipse. 
 
 From these lofty reflections I retina to the littleness of my 
 G-\vn life, for which strange events, clothed at least with a 
 demonical appearance, were in store. From the summit of 
 Mont Gotthard, I had tui-ned my back ujjon Italy, and 
 returned home, because I coidd not make up my mind to go 
 to a distance fi'om LilK. An affection, which is grounded on 
 the hope of possessing for life one dearly beloved, in an inti- 
 mate and cordial union, does not die away all at once ; on the 
 contrary, it is nourished by a consideration of the reasonable 
 desires and honest hopes we are conscious of cherishing. 
 
 It lies in the natm'C of the thiufr, that in such cases the 
 maiden should be consoled before the youth. To these beau- 
 tiful children, as descendants of Pandora, is granted the 
 enviable gift to charm, attract, and (more through nature and 
 of half purpose, than through design or of malice) to gather 
 admirers around them; and thus, like the Magician's Appren- 
 tice, they are often in danger of being frightened by the crowd 
 of theii" adorers. And then at last a choice must be made 
 from among them all; one must be exclusively prefeiTcd; 
 one must lead home the bride. 
 
 And hov/ often docs accident determine the choice nnd sway 
 the mind of her who has to make the selection! I had re-
 
 160 TKUTH AND TOETRY; FROM ill' OWX LIFE. 
 
 nonnced Lilli from conviction, but love made mc suspect mv 
 own reason. Lilli had taken leave of mc with the same feel- 
 ings, and I had set out on a beautiful tour in order to distract 
 my mind, but it had produced the opposite effect. 
 
 As long as I was absent I believed in the separation, but 
 did not believe in the renimciatiou. Recollections, hopes, 
 and ■^•ishes, all had free play. Now I came back, and as the 
 re-imion of those whose happy love is unopposed, is a heaven, 
 so the meeting again of two lovers who are kept apart by cold 
 calculations of reason, is an intolerable purgatory, a forecourt 
 of hellf When I again entered the circle in which LiUi still 
 moved, all the dissonances which tended to oppose om' union, 
 seemed to have gained double force; when I stood once more 
 before her, the conviction that she was lost to me, fell heavy 
 upon my heart. 
 
 Accordingly I resolved at once on flight, and under this 
 impression there was nothing which I desired more, than that 
 the young ducal pair of Weimar shoidd come from Carlsridie 
 to Frankfort, in order that, complying with old and neAV invi- 
 tations, I might follow them to Weimar. Their Highnesses 
 had always maintained towards me a gracious and confidential 
 manner, for which I on my part returned the warmest thanks. 
 My attachment to the Duke from the first moment I saw him ; 
 my respect for the princess whom by reputation I had so long- 
 known ; a desire to render personally some friendly service to 
 Wieland, whose conduct had been so liberal, and to atone 
 upon the spot for my half-wilful, half-unintentional impro- 
 prieties, were motives enough to induce and even to force the 
 assent of a youth, who now had no attachment to detain him. 
 Moreover, from Lilli I must fly, whether to the South, Avhcrc 
 my Father's enthusiasm was daily depicting to me a most 
 glorious heaven of iVrt and Nature, or to the North, whither 
 so distino'uishcd a circle of eminent men invited me. 
 
 The young princely pair now reached Frankfort on their 
 way home. The Duke of Meiningen's suite vras there at the 
 same time, and by him, as well as by the Privy Counsellor 
 von Diirkheim, who accompanied the yoimg prince, I was 
 received in the most friendly manner possible. But noAv, to 
 keep up the fashion of my youth, a strange incident was not 
 wanting : a little misunderstanding arose to tkrow me into an 
 incredible but rather laughable perplexity.
 
 A LITTLE PEKPLEXITY. 161 
 
 Their Highnesses of Weimar aud ]\Ieiningen were living in 
 the same hotel. I received one day an invitation to dinner. 
 My mind was so preoccupied with the Coiu-t of Wcitnar, that 
 I did not think it necessary more particularly to inform myself; 
 especially as I had not the presumption to imagine that any 
 notice would be taken of me by the Duke of jNIeiningen. 
 Accordingly I go full dressed to the " Roman Emperors," and 
 making my way to the apartments of the Weimar family 
 find thorn empty; being informed that the Duke and his 
 suite are with his Highness of ISIeiningen, I betake myself 
 thither, and am kindly received. Supposing that this is only 
 a morning visit, or that perhaps the two Dukes are to dine 
 together, I await the issue. Suddenly, however, the Wcimai- 
 suite sets itself in motion, and I of course follow ; but instead 
 of returning to their own apartments they go straight down 
 staii-s and into their chariots, and I am left alone in the 
 «ti"eet. 
 
 Now, instead of inquiring into the matter, and adroitly 
 find prudently seeking some solution of it, I, with my usual 
 precipitancy,' went straight home, ^^•hcre I found my parents 
 at supper." My father shook his head, while my mother 
 made everv possible excuse for me. In the evening she told 
 me in confidence, that after I had left the table, my father 
 had said, that he wondered very much how I, generally acute 
 enough, could not see that in that quarter they only wished to 
 make a fool of me and to laugh at me. But this did not move 
 me: for meanwhile I had met with Herr von Diirkheim, who 
 in his mild Avay brought me to book with sundiy graceful 
 and humorous reproaches. I was now awakened from my 
 dream, and had an opportunity to express my most sincere 
 thanks for the favor intended me contrary to my hope and 
 e.xoectci'ion, and to ask forgiveness for mv blunder. 
 
 After I had on good grounds determined to accept their 
 friendly offers, the following arrangement was made. A 
 gentleman of the Duke"s suite who had stayed behind in Carls - 
 ruhe, to wait for a landau which was building in Strasburg, 
 ■was to be by a certain day in Frankfort, and I was to hold 
 myself in readiness to set off directly with him for Weimar. 
 The hearty and gracious farewell with ■^^•hich the young 
 sovereigns took their leave of me, the friendly behaviom- of the 
 courtiers, made me look forward most anxiously to this 
 Vol. II. M
 
 162 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. 
 
 journey, for which the road seemed so pleasantly to smoothe 
 itself. 
 
 But here, too, accidents came in to complicate so simple an 
 arrangement, which through my passionate impatience became 
 stiU more confused, and was almost quite frustrated. Ha\TJig 
 announced the day of my departure, I had taken leave of every- 
 body, and after packing up in haste my chattels, not forget- 
 ting my unprinted manuscripts, I waited anxiously for the 
 hour which was to bring the aforesaid friend in the new 
 landau, and to carry me into a new country, and into new 
 circumstances. The hour passed, and the day also; and 
 since, to avoid a second leave-taking and the being overrun 
 with visits, I had given out that I was to depart early in the 
 morning, I was obliged to keep close to the house, and to 
 my own room, and had thus placed myself in a peculiar 
 situation. 
 
 But since solitude and a narrow space were always favora- 
 ble to me, and I was now compelled to find some employment 
 for these hom'S, I set to work on my " Egmont," and brought 
 it almost to a close. I read over what I wrote to my father, 
 who had acquired a peculiar interest in this piece, and wished 
 nothing more than to see it finished and in print, since he 
 hoped that it woidd add to his son's reputation. He needed 
 something of this sort to keep him qtiiet, and to make him 
 contented; for he was inclined to make very grave comments 
 on the non-arrival of the carriage. He maintained that the 
 whole afiair was a mere fiction, "would not believe in any new 
 landau, and pronounced the gentleman who stayed behind to 
 be a phantom of the air. It was, however, only indirectly 
 that he gave me to imderstand all this ; but he only tormented 
 himself and my mother the more openly; insisting that the 
 whole thing was a mere piece of court pleasantly, which they 
 had practised upon me in consequence of my former escapades, 
 and in order to sicken and to shame me, had put upon me a 
 disgraceful mockery instead of the expected honor. 
 
 As to myself, I held fast to my first faith, and congratulated 
 myself upon these solitary hoirrs, disturbed by neither friends 
 nor strangers, nor by any sort of social distraction. I there- 
 fore wrote on vigorously at " Egmont," though not without 
 inward mortification. And this frame of mind perhaps suited 
 well with the piece itself, which, agitated by so many pas-
 
 A 1>ISAPP0INTMENT. 
 
 sions, could not very well have been written by one entirely 
 passionless. 
 
 Thus passed eight daj's, and I know not how many more, 
 when such perfect imprisonment began to prove irksome. 
 Accustomed for many years to live under the open sky, and 
 to enter into society on the most frank and familiar terms, 
 in the neighbom-hood too of one dearly beloved, from whom 
 indeed I had resolved to part, but from whom, so long as I 
 was within the circle of her attraction, I found it difficult to 
 absent myself — all this begun to make me so uneasy, that 
 there was danger lest the interest of my tragedy should suffer, 
 and my inventive powers be suspended through my impa- 
 tience. Already for several evenings I had foimd it impos- 
 sible to remain at home. Disguised in a large mantle, I crept 
 round the city, passing the houses of my friends and aquaint- 
 ances, and not forbearing to walk up to Lilli's window. Her 
 house was a corner one, and the room she usually spent her 
 evenings in was on the ground floor; the green shades were 
 down, but I could easily remark that the lights stood in their 
 usual places. Soon I heard her singing at the piano; it was 
 the song. Ah! ivhy resistless dost thou press me? which I had 
 written for her hardly a year before. She seemed to me to 
 sing with more expression than ever; I could make out every 
 word distinctly; for I had placed my ear as close as the 
 convex lattice would permit. After she had sung it through, 
 I saw by the shadow which fell upon the cm-tain that she got 
 up and walked backwards and forwards, but I sought in vain 
 to catch the outline of her lovely person through the thick 
 curtains. Nothing but the firm resolve to tear myself away, 
 and not to afflict her Math my presence, btit actually to 
 renounce her, and the thought of the strange impression 
 which would be made by my re-appearance, could have 
 determined me to leave so dear a neighbourhood. 
 
 Several more days passed away, and my father's suggestion 
 seemed daily to become more probable, since not even a letter 
 aiTived from Carlsruhe to explain the reasons of the delay. 
 I was unable to go on with my poetic labors, and now, in the 
 tmeasiness with which I was internally distracted, my father 
 had the game to himself. He represented to me, that it was 
 now too late to change matters, that my trunlc was packed, 
 and he would give me money and credit to go to Italy ; but I 
 
 M 2
 
 1G4 TKUTH AXr> rOETKY; FKOM MY OWX LIFE. 
 
 must decide quickly. In such a weighty affair, I naturally 
 doubted and hesitated. Finally, however, I agreed that if, 
 by a certain hour, neither carriage nor message came, I would 
 set off, directing my steps first of all to Heidelberg and from 
 there over the Alps, not, however, going through Switzerland 
 again, but rather taking the route through the Orisons, or the 
 
 TjTOl. 
 
 Strange things indeed must happen, when a planless youth 
 who of himself is so easily misled, is also driven into a false 
 step by a passionate error of age. But so it is both with 
 youth and the whole of life. It is not till the campaign is 
 over that we loam to see through its tactics. In the ordinary 
 com-se of things such an accident were easy enough to be 
 explained ; but we are always too ready to conspire with error 
 against what is naturally probable, just as we shuffle the cards 
 before we deal them round, in order that chance may not bo 
 deprived of its full share in the game. It is precisely thus 
 that the element arises in and upon which the Demonical so loves 
 to work; and it even sports with us the more fearfidly, the 
 clearer are the inklings we have of its approach. 
 
 The last day for my waiting had arrived, and the next 
 morning was fixed for my setting cut on my travels; and now 
 I felt extremely anxious to see mj- friend Passavant again, 
 who had just returned fi-om Switzerland, and who would really 
 have had cause to be offended if, by keeping my plans entirely 
 to myself I had violated the intimate confidence which sub- 
 sisted between us. I therefore sent him an anonymous note, 
 requesting a meeting by night at a certain spot, where I wa* 
 the first to arrive enveloped in my mantle ; but he was not 
 long after me^nd if he wondered at the appointment, he must 
 have been still more sm-prised to meet the person he did. His 
 joy, however, was equal to the astonishment; conversation 
 and coimscl were not to be thought of, he could only wish 
 me well through my Italian journey, and so we parted. The 
 next day I saw myself by good time advancing along the 
 moimtain road. 
 
 I had several reasons for going to Heidelberg ; one was 
 very sensible and prudent, for I had heard that my missing 
 Weimar friend must pass through Heidelberg from Carlsruhe; 
 and so, when we reached the post-house, I left a note Avhich 
 was to be handed to a cavalier who should pass through in
 
 HEIDELBERG — MADEMOTSELLE DELF. 165 
 
 the carriage described ; the second reason M-as one of passion, 
 and had reference to my late attachment to Lilli. In short, 
 Mademoiselle Delf, who had been the confidante of oiu- love, 
 and indeed the mediator >vith our respective parents for their 
 approval of our marriage, lived there ; and I prized it as the 
 greatest happiness to be able, before I left Germany, to talk 
 over those happy times with a worthy, patient, and indulgent 
 friend. 
 
 I was well received, and introduced into many families ; 
 among others, the family of the high warden of the forests. Von 
 
 W , particularly pleased me. The parents were dignified 
 
 and easy in their manners, and one of the daughters resembled 
 Frederica. It was just the time of vintage, the weather beau- 
 tiful, and all my Alsacian feelings revived in the beautiful 
 valley of the Rhine. At this time, however, my experience, 
 both of myself and others seemed very strange ; it was 
 as yet quite vague and imdigested in my mind, no deli- 
 berate judgment upon life had shaped itself before me, and 
 whatever sense of the infinite had been awakened within me 
 served only to confuse and perplex me the more. In society, 
 nevertheless, I was as agreeable and entertaining as ever, and 
 possibly even still more so. Here, xmder this free air of 
 heaven, among joyous men, I sought again the old sports 
 which never lose their novelty and charm for youth. With an 
 earlier and not yet extinguished love in my heart, I excited 
 sympathy without seeking it, even though it sought no utter- 
 ance of itself, and thus I soon became at home in this circle, 
 and indeed necessary to it, and I forgot that I had resolved, 
 after talking away a couple of evenings, to continue my 
 journey. 
 
 Mademoiselle Delf was one of those persons who, without ex- 
 actly intriguing, always like to have some business in hand, and 
 to keep others employed, and to carry through some object or 
 other. She had conceived a sincere friendship for me ; and 
 prevailed the more easily on me to prolong my visit as I lived 
 in her house, where she suggested all manner of inducements 
 for my stay, and raised all manner of obstacles to my journey. 
 When, however, I wanted to turn the conversation to Lilli, 
 she was not so well pleased or so sympathizing as I had hoped. 
 On the contrary, she said that, under the circumstances, 
 nothing could be wiser than our resolution to part, and main-
 
 166 XEXJTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN OFE. 
 
 tained that one must submit to what is umxvoidable, banish 
 the impossible from the mind, and look around for some new 
 object of interest in life. Full of plans as she always was, she 
 had not intended to leave this matter to accident, but had 
 already formed a project for my future conduct, from which I 
 clearly saw that her recent invitation to Heidelberg had not 
 been so disinterested as it sounded. 
 
 She reminded me that the Electoral Prince, Charles Theo- 
 dore, who had done so much for the arts and sciences, resided 
 still at Manheim, and that as the court was Roman Catholic 
 while the country was Protestant the latter party was extremely 
 anxious to strengthen itself by enlisting the services of able 
 and hopeful men. I must now go, in God"s name, to Italy, 
 and there mature my views of Art ; meanwhile they woulc 
 work for me. It would, on my retm-n. soon be seen whethei 
 
 the budding affection of Fraulein von W had expanded 
 
 or had been nipped, and whether it would be politic, through 
 an alliance with a respectable family, to establish myseK and 
 my fortunes in a new home. 
 
 All these suggestions I did not, to be sure, reject ; but my 
 planless nature could not wholly harmonize with the scheming 
 spirit of my friend ; I was gratified, however, with the kind 
 intentions of the moment, while Lilli's image floated before 
 me, waking and dreaming, and mingled with everything else 
 which afforded me pleasure or distraction. But now I sum- 
 moned before my soul the serious import of my great travel- 
 ling plan, and 1 resolved to set myself free, gently and with 
 propriety, and in a few days to make known to her my deter- 
 mination of taking leave of her, and to resume my route. 
 
 One night Mademoiselle Delf had gone on until late tmfold- 
 ing to me her plans, and all that certain parties were disposed 
 to do for me, and I could not but feel grateful for such sen- 
 timents, although the scheme of strengthening a certain circle, 
 through me and my possible influence at court, was manifest 
 enough. It was about one o'clock when we separated. 1 
 soon fell into a soimd sleep, but before very long I was 
 awakened by the horn of a postilion who was stopping and 
 blowing it before the house. Veiy soon Mademoiselle Dell 
 appeared with a light, and a letter in her hands, and coming 
 up to my bed-side, she exclaimed, " Here's the letter ; read 
 and tell me what it says. Sm-ely it comes trom the Weimar
 
 DEPAKTUKE FOR WEIMAK. 167 
 
 people. IS it is an invitation do not follow it, but call to 
 mind our conversation." I asked her to give me a light and 
 leave me for a quarter of an hour to myself. She went away 
 very reluctantly. I remained thinking for some time without 
 opening the letter. The express then has come from Frank- 
 fort, I know both the seal and hand ; the friend then has 
 arrived there ; he is still true to his invitation, and our own 
 want of faith and incredulity had made us act prematurely. 
 Why could one not wait, in a quiet civilized place, for a man 
 who had been announced distinctly, but whose arrival might 
 be delayed by so many accidents ? The scales fell from my 
 eyes. All the kindness, the graciousness, the confidence of 
 the past came up livingly before me, and I was almost ashamed 
 of the strange wilful step I had taken. I opened the letter, 
 and found all that had happened explained naturally enough. 
 My missing guide had waited for the new laudau which was 
 to come from Strasburg, day after day, hoiu- after hour, as we 
 had waited for him ; then for the sake of some business he 
 had gone round by way of Manheim to Franlifort, and to his 
 dismay had not found me there. He sent the hasty letter by 
 express, proposing that now the mistake was explained I 
 should instantly return, and save him the shame of going to 
 Weimar without me. 
 
 Much as my imderstanding and my feeling inclined me to 
 this side, there was still no lack of weighty arguments in 
 favour of my new route. ]\Iy father had laid out for me a fine 
 plan of travel, and had given me a little library, which might 
 prepare me for the scenes I was to visit, and also guide me 
 on the spot. In my leisure hours I had had no other enter- 
 tainment than to reflect on it, and, indeed, during my last 
 short journey I had thought of nothing else in the coach. 
 Those glorious objects which, from my youth up, I had become 
 acquainted with, histories and all sorts of tales, gathered before 
 my soul, and nothing seemed to me so desirable as to visit 
 them, while I was parting from Lilli for ever. 
 
 As these thoughts passed through my mind I had dressed 
 myself and was walking up and dovm my chamber. My 
 anxious hostess entered. " What am I to hope?" she cried. 
 " Dearest madam," I answered ; " say no more on the subject; 
 I have made up my mind to return ; the grounds of that con- 
 clusion I have well weighed, and to repeat them to you would
 
 168 TRUTH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWX LIFE. 
 
 be wasting time. A resolution must be taken sooner or later, 
 and Avlio should take it but the person whom it most 
 concerns r" 
 
 I was moved, and so was she; and we had an excited 
 scene, which I cut short by ordering my servant to engage a 
 post-coach. In vain I begged my hostess to calm herself, and 
 to turn the mock-departure which I took of the company the 
 evening before into a real one ; to consider that it was only a 
 temporary visit, a postponement for a short time ; that my 
 Italian journey was not given up, and my return that way was 
 not precluded. She Avould listen to nothing, and she disquieted 
 her friend, akeady deeply excited, still more. The coach was 
 at the door ; evei^thing was packed, and the postilion gave 
 the usual signs of impatience ; I toije myself away; she would 
 not let me go, and with so much art brought up all the argu- 
 ments of the present, that finally, impassioned and inspired, 
 I shouted out the words of Egmont : 
 
 Child ! child ! no more ! The coursers of time, lashed, as it 
 were, by invisible spirits, huny on the light car of our destiny, 
 and all that we can do is in cool self-possession to hold the 
 reins with a finn hand, and to guide the wheels, now to the 
 left, now to the right, avoiding a stone here, or a precipice 
 there. "VVhithcr it is hurrying M'ho can teU? and who, 
 indeed, can remember the point from which it started r 
 
 END OF TUE AUTOBIOGRAPHY.
 
 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND.
 
 171 
 
 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 When, a few years ago, the copies of the following letters 
 were first made known to us, it was asserted that they had 
 been found among Werther's papers, and it was pretended 
 that before his acquaintance with Charlotte, he had been in. 
 Switzerland. We have never seen the originals : however we 
 would not on any account anticipate the judgment and feel- 
 ings of our readers ; for whatever may be their true history, 
 it is impossible to read them without sjTnpathy. 
 
 Part the First. 
 
 How do all my descriptions disgust me, when I read them 
 over. Nothing but your advice, your command, your in- 
 junction could have induced me to attempt anything of the 
 kind. How many descriptions, too, of these scenes had I not 
 read before I saw them. Did these, then, afford me an 
 image of them, — or at best but a mere vague notion? In 
 vain did my imagination attempt to bring the objects before 
 it; in vain did my mind try to think upon them. Here I 
 now stand contemplating these wonders, and what are my 
 feelings in the midst of them ? I can think of nothing — I can 
 feel nothing, — and how willingly would I both think and 
 feel. The glorious scene before me excites my soul to its 
 inmost depths, and impels me to be doing ; and yet what can 
 I do — what do I ? I set myself down and scribble and 
 describe! — Away with you, ye descriptions — delude my friend 
 —make him believe that I am doing something — that he sees 
 and reads something. 
 
 Were, then, these Smtzers free? Free, these opulent 
 burghers in their little pent-up to^vus — free, those poor devils 
 on their rocks and crags ? What is it that man cannot be 
 made to believe, especially when he cherishes in his heart the 
 memory of some old tale of marvel ? Once, forsooth, they did 
 break a tyrant's yoke, and might for the moment fancy them- 
 selves free ; but out of the cai'caso of the single oppressor the
 
 172 LETTKKS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 good sun, by a strange new birtli, has hatched a swarm of 
 petty tjTants. And so now they are ever telling that old tale 
 of mangel : one hears it till one is sick of it. They formerly 
 made themselves free, and have ever since remained free! 
 and now they sit behind their walls, hugging themselves with 
 their customs and laws — their philandering and philistering. 
 And there, too, on the rocks, it is surely fine to talk of liberty, 
 when for six months of the year they, like the marmot, 
 are bor.nd hand and foot by the snow. 
 
 Alas I how wretched must any work of man look, in 
 the midst of this great aud glorious Nature, but espe- 
 cially such sorry, poverty-stricken works as these black and 
 dirty little towns — such mean heaps of stones and rubbish ! 
 Large rubble and other stones on the roofs too, that the 
 miserable thatch may not be carried off from the top of them, 
 — and then the filth, the dung, and the gaping idiots ! When 
 here you meet with man and the wretched work of his hands, 
 you are glad to fly away immediately from both. 
 
 That there are in man very many intellectual capacities 
 ■which in this life he is unable to develope, which therefore 
 point to a better future, and to a more harmonious state of 
 existence : on this point we are both agreed. But further 
 than this I cannot give up that other fancy of miiae, even 
 though on account of it you may again call me, as you have 
 so often done already, a mere enthusiast. For my part, I do 
 think that man feels conscious also of corporeal qualities, of 
 whose mature expansion he can have no hope in this life. 
 This most assuredly is the case with '•'jiyingr How strongly at 
 one time used the clouds, as they drove along the blue sky, to 
 tempt me to travel with them to foreign lands ! and now in 
 •what danger do I stand, lest they should carry me away with 
 them from the mountain peak as they sweep -saolently by. 
 What desire do I not feel to throw myself into the boundless 
 regions of the air — to poise over the ten-ific abyss, or to 
 alight on some otherwise inaccessible rock. With what 
 a longing do I draw deeper aud deeper breath, when, in 
 the dark blue depth below, the eagle soars over rocks and 
 forests, or in company, and in sweet concord with his mate, 
 wheels in wide circles round the eyrie to which he has
 
 FANCIES AND FEELINGS, 173 
 
 entrusted his young. Must I then never do more than creep 
 up to the summits? Must I always go on clinging to the 
 highest locks, as well as to the lowest plain ; and when I 
 have at last, with much toil, reached the desired eminence, 
 must I still anxiously grasp at every holding place, shudder at 
 tlie thought of retiu-n, and tremble at the chance of a fall. 
 
 With what wonderful properties are we not born, — what 
 vague aspirations rise within us ! How rarely do imagina- 
 tion and our bodily powers work in opposition ! Peculiarities 
 of my early boyhood again recur. "\Vhile I am wallsing, and 
 have a long road before me, my arms go dangling by my 
 side, I often make a grasp, as if I would seize a javelin, and 
 hurl it I know not at whom, or what; and then I fancy an 
 arrow is shot at me which pierces me to the heart ; I strike 
 my hand upon my breast, and feel an inexpressible sweetness ; 
 and then after this I soon revert to my natural state. Whence 
 comes this strange phenomenon, — what is the meaning of it ? 
 and why does it invariably recur under the same figures, in 
 the same bodily movement, and with the same sensation ? 
 
 I am repeatedly told that the people who have met me on 
 my journey are little satisfied with me. 1 can readily be- 
 lieve it, for neither has any one of them contributed to my 
 satisfaction. I cannot tell how it comes to pass, that society 
 oppresses me ; that -the forms of politeness are disagreeable 
 to me — that what people talk about does not interest me, — 
 that all tliat they show to me is either quite indifferent, or 
 else produces quite an opposite impression to what they 
 expect. When I am shown a drawing or painting of any 
 beautiful spot, immediately a feeling of disquiet arises within 
 me which is utterly inexpressible. My toes within my shoes 
 begin to bend, as if they would clutch the ground — a cramp- 
 like motion runs through my fingers. I bite my lips^ and I 
 hasten to leave the compan}- I am in, and throw myself down 
 in the presence of the majesty of nature on the first seat how- 
 ever inconvenient. I try to take in the scene before me 
 with my eye — to seize all its beauties, and on the spot I love to 
 cover a wUole sheet with scratches, which represent nothing 
 exactly, but which, nevertheless, possess an infinite value
 
 174 ZETTEKS FEOM SWITZEKLA.NI>. 
 
 in my eyes, as serving to remind me of the happy moment 
 whose bliss even this bungling exercise could not mar. What 
 means, then, this strange effort to pass from art to nature, 
 and then back again from nature to art? If it gives promise 
 of an artist, why is steadiness wanting to me ? If it calls me 
 to enjoyment, wherefore, then, am I not able to seize it ? I 
 lately had a present of a basket of fruit. I was in raptures at 
 the sight of it as of something heavenly, — such riches, such 
 abundance, such variety and yet such affinity ! I could not 
 persuade myself to pluck off a single berry — I could not bring 
 myself to take a single peach or a fig. Most assuredly this 
 gratification of the eye and the inner sense is the highest and 
 most worthy of man ; in all probability it is the design of 
 Nature, when the hungry and thirsty believe that she has 
 exhausted herself in marvels merely for the gratification of 
 their palate. Ferdinand came and found me in the midst of 
 these meditations : he did me justice, and then said, smiling, but 
 with a deep sigh, " Yes, we are not worthy to consume these 
 glorious products of Nature ; truly it were a pity. Permit 
 me to make a present of them to my beloved ?" How glad 
 was I to see the basket carried off! How did I love Ferdi- 
 nand — how did I thank him for the feeling he had excited 
 in me — for the prospect he gave me ? Aye, we ought to 
 acquaint ourselves with the beautiful ; we ought to contem- 
 plate it with rapture, and attempt to raise ourselves up to its 
 height. And in order to gain strength for that, we must 
 keep ourselves thoroughly unselfish — we must not make it 
 our own, but rather seek to communicate it : indeed, to make 
 a sacrifice of it to those who are dear and precious to us. 
 
 How sedulously are we shaped and moulded in our 
 youth — ^how constantly are we then called on to lay aside 
 now this, now that bad feeHng ! But what, in fact, are our 
 so-called bad feelings but so many organs by means of which 
 man is to help himself in life. How is not the poor child 
 worried, in whom but a little spark of vanity ,is discovered ! 
 and yet what a poor miserable creature is the man who has 
 no vanity at all. I will now teU you what has led me to 
 make all these reflections. The day before yesterday we 
 were joined by a young fellow, who was most disagreeable to
 
 CONVENTIONAI. EDUCATION. 175 
 
 me aud to Ferdinand. His weak points were so prominent, 
 his emptiness so manifest, and his care for his outward appear- 
 ance so obvious, that we looked down upon him as far in- 
 ferior to ourselves, yet everywhere he was better received 
 than we were. Among other of his follies, he wore a waist- 
 coat of red satin, which round the neck was so cut as to look 
 like the ribbon of some order or other. We could not 
 restrain our jokes at this piece of absurdity, but he let them 
 all pass, for he drew a good profit from it, and perhaps 
 secretly laughed at us. For host and hostess, coachman, 
 waiter and chambermaid, and indeed not a few of our fellow- 
 travellers, were taken in by this seeming ornament, and 
 showed him greater politeness than ourselves. Not only was 
 he always first waited upon, but, to our great humiliation, we 
 saw that all the pretty girls in the inns bestowed all their 
 stolen glances upon him ; and then, when it came to the 
 reckoning, which his eminence and distinction had enhanced, 
 Ave had to pay our full shares. Who, then, was the fool in 
 the game? — not he, assuredly. 
 
 There is something pretty and instructive about the 
 symbols and maxims which one here sees on all the stoves. 
 Here you have the drawing of one of these symbols which 
 particularly caught my fancy. A horse tethered by his hind 
 foot to a stake is grazing round it as far as his tether will 
 permit ; beneath is written, " AUow me to take my allotted 
 portion of food." This, too, will be the case with me, when 
 I come home, and, like the horse in the mill, shall have to 
 work away at your pleasiu-e, and in return, like the horse 
 here on the stove, shall receive a nicely- measured dole for 
 my support. Yes, I am coming back, and what awaits me 
 was certainly well worth all the trouble of climbing up these 
 mountain heights, of wandering thi'ough these valleys, and 
 seeing this blue sky — of discovering that there is a nature 
 which exists by an eternal voiceless necessity, which has no 
 wants, no feehngs, and is divine, whilst we, whether in tho 
 country or in the towns, have alike to toil hard to gain a 
 miserable subsistence, and at the same time struggle to subject 
 everything to ora* lawless caprice, and call it liberty !
 
 1'6 ij£TTERS FROJI SAVIXZEELAND. 
 
 Aye, I liftve ascended the Furca — the summit of S. 
 Gotthard. These sublime, incomparable scenes of nature, will 
 ever stand before my eye. Aye, I have read the Roman 
 history, in order to gain from the comparison a distinct and 
 vivid feeling what a thoroughly miserable being I am. 
 
 Never has it been so clear to me as during these last few- 
 days, that I too could be happy on moderate means — could 
 be quite as happy as any one else, if only I knew a trade — 
 an exciting one, indeed, but yet one which had no conse- 
 quences for the morrow, which required nothing but industry 
 and attention at the time, without calling for either foresight 
 or retrospection. Every mechanic seems to me the happiest 
 of mortals : aU that he has to do is already settled for him, 
 what he can do is fixed and known. He has not to i-ack his 
 brairis over the task that is set him ; he works away without 
 thinking, Avithout exertion or haste, but stiU. with diligence 
 and pleasure in his work, like a bird building its nest, or a 
 bee constructing its cells. He is but a degree above the 
 beasts, and yet he is a perfect man. How do I envy the potter 
 at his wheel, or the joiner behind his bench ! 
 
 Tilling thtf soil is not to my liking — this first and most 
 . necessary of man's occupations is disagreeable to me. In it 
 man does but ape nature, who scatters her seeds everywhere, 
 whereas man would choose that a particular field should pro- 
 duce none but one particular fruit. But thiiigs do not go on 
 exactly so — ^the weeds spring up luxuriantly — ^the cold and 
 wet injures the crop, or the hail cuts it off entirely. The 
 poor husbandman anxiously waits thi'oughout the year to see 
 how the cards will decide the game with the clouds, and 
 determine whether he shall win or lose his stakes. Such a 
 doubtful ambiguous condition may be right suitable to man, in 
 his present ignorance, while he knows not whence he came, 
 nor whither he is going. It may then be tolerable to man to 
 resign all his labours to chance ; and thus the parsoii, at any 
 rate, has an oi)portunity, when things look thoroughly bad, to 
 remind him of Providence, and to comiect the sins of his 
 flock -with the incidents of nature.
 
 AN ADVENXUllE. 177 
 
 So then I have nothing to joke Ferdinand about ! I too 
 Lave met with a pleasant adventure. Adventure ! why do I 
 use the silly word? There is nothing of adventure in a gentle 
 attraction which draws man to man. Orn- social life, our false 
 relations, those are adventures, these are monstrosities and 
 yet they come before us as well-known and as nearly akin 
 to us, as Uncle and Aunt. 
 
 We had been introduced to Herr Tiidou, and we found our- 
 selves very happy among this family — rich, open-hearted, 
 good-natui'ed, lively people, Avho in the society of their 
 children, in comfort and without care, enjoy the good which 
 each day brings with it— their property and their glorious 
 neighbourhood. We young folks were not required, as is too 
 often the case, in so many formal households, to sacrifice our- 
 selves at the card-table, in order to humour the old. On the 
 contrary, the old people, father, mother, and aunts, gathered 
 round us, when for our own amusement, we got up some little 
 games, iuAvhich chance, and thought, and wit, bad their coim- 
 teracting influence. Eleonora — for I must now at last men- 
 tion her name — the second daughter — ^lier image will for ever 
 be present to my mind — a slim slight-frame, delicately chi- 
 selled featm-es, a bright eye — a palish complexion, which in 
 young girls of her age is rather pleasing than disagreeable, 
 as being a sign of no very incurable a malady — on the whole, 
 her appearance was extremely agreeable. She seemed cheer- 
 ful and lively and every one felt at his ease with her. Soon— 
 indeed I may venture to say at once, — at once, on the very first 
 evening she made me her companion ; she sat by my side, and 
 if the game separated us a moment, she soon contrived to 
 find her old place again. I was gay and cheerful — my 
 journey, the beautiful weather, the country — all had contri- 
 buted to produce in me an immoderate cheerfulness — aye, I 
 might almost venture to say, a state of excitement. I derived 
 it from everything and imparted it to everything ; even Fer- 
 dinand seemed to forget his fair one. We had almost ex- 
 hausted ourselves in varying our amusements when we at last 
 thought of the "Game of Matrimony." The names of the 
 ladies and of the gentlemen were thro\\Ti separately into two 
 hats, and then the pairs were drawn out one by one. On each 
 couple, as determined by the lot, one of the company whose 
 turn it might happen to be, had to write a little poem. Everj- 
 
 VoL. II. M
 
 178 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 one of the party, father, mother, and aunts, were obliged to put 
 their names in the hats ; we cast in besides the names of 
 om* acquaintances, and to enlage the number of candidates for 
 matrimony, we threw in those of all the well-kno\\'n charac- 
 ters of the literary and of the political world. We com- 
 menced playing, and the first pairs that were drawn were 
 highly distinguished personages. It was not every one, how- 
 ever, who was ready at once with his verses. She, Ferdinand 
 and myself, and one of the aunts who wrote very pretty 
 verses in French — we soon divided among oiu-selves the office 
 of secretary. The conceits were mostly good and the verses 
 tolerable. Her's especially, had a touch of nature about them 
 which distinguished them from all others ; without being really 
 clever they had a happy turn ; they were playful without being 
 bitter, and shewed good will towards every onei The father 
 laughed heartily, and his face was lit up with joy when his 
 daughter's verses were declared to be the best after mine. 
 Our unqualified approbation higlily delighted him, — we praised 
 as men praise unexpected merit — as we praise an author who 
 has bribed us. At last out came my lot, and chance had 
 taken honourable care of me. It was no less a personage than 
 the Empress of all the Russias, who was drawn to be my 
 partner for life. The company laughed heartily at the match, 
 and Eleonora maintained that the whole company must try 
 their best to do honour to so eminent a consort. AU began 
 to try : a few pens were bitten to pieces ; she was ready fiJst, 
 but wished to read last; the mother and the aunt could make 
 nothing of the subject, and although the father was rather matter- 
 of-fact, Ferdinand somewhat humorous, and the aunts rather 
 reserved, still, through all you could see friendship and good- 
 will. At last it came to her turn ; she drew a deep breath, 
 her ease and cheerfulness left her; she did not read but rather 
 lisped it Out — and laid it before me to read it to the rest. I 
 was astonished, amazed. Thus does the bud of love open in 
 beauty and modesty ! I felt as if a whole spring had 
 showered upon me all its flowers at once ! Every one was 
 silent, Ferdinand lost not his presence of mind. "Beautiful," 
 he exclaimed, " very beautiful ! he deserves the poem as 
 little as an Empire." " If, only we have rightly understood 
 it," said the fiither; the rest requested I would read it once 
 more. My eyes had hitherto been fixed on the precious
 
 AET AND NATTTKE. 179 
 
 •words, a shudder ran throHgli me from head to foot , Ferdinand 
 who saw my perplexity, took the paper up and read it. She 
 scarcely allowed him to finish before she drew out the lots for 
 another pair. The play was not kept up long after this and 
 refreshments were brought in. 
 
 Shall I or shall I not ? Is it right of me to hide in silence 
 any thing from him to whom I tell so much — nay, all ? Shall 
 I keep back from you a great matter, when I yet weary you 
 with so many trifles which assuredly no one would ever read 
 but you who have taken so wonderful a liking for me? or shaU, 
 I keep back anything from you because it might perhaps give 
 you a false, not to say an iU opinion of me? No — you know me 
 better than I even know myself. If I should do anything 
 which you do not believe possible I could do, you will amend 
 it; if I should do anjiihing deserving of censure, you will not 
 spare me, — you will lead me and guide me whenever my pecu- 
 liarities entice me off the right road. 
 
 My joy, my rapture at works of art when they are true, 
 when they are immediate and speaking expressions of Nature 
 afford the greatest delight to every collector, to every dilet- 
 tante. Those indeed who call themselves connoisseurs are 
 not always of my opinion ; but I care nothing for their con- 
 noissem-ship when I am happy. Does not living nature vividly 
 impress itself on my sense of \'ision? Do not its images 
 remain fixed in my brain ? Do not they there grow in beauty, 
 delighting to compare themselves in turn with the images 
 of art which the mind of others has also embellished and beau- 
 tified ? I confess to you that my fondness for nature arises 
 from the fact of my always seeing her so beautiful, so lovely, 
 so brilliant, so ra\asliing, that the similation of the artist, 
 even his imperfect imitation transports me almost as much, as 
 if it were a perfect type. It is only such works of art, how- 
 ever, as bespeak genius and feeling that have any charms for 
 me. Those cold imitations which confine themselves to the 
 narrow circle of a certain meagre mannerism, of mere pains- 
 taking diligence, are to me utterly intolerable. You see, there- 
 fore, that my delight and taste cannot well be riveted by a 
 work of art, unless it imitates such objects of nature as are 
 well known to me, so that I am able to test the imitation by 
 my own experience of the originals. Landscape, with all 
 that lives and moves therein — ^flowers and fruit-trees, Gothic 
 
 N 2
 
 180 LETTERS PROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 f 
 
 churches, — a portrait taken directly from Nature, all this I 
 
 can recognize, feel, and if you like, judge of. Honest W 
 
 amused himself with this trait of my character, and in such a . 
 way that I could not be ofiended, often made merry with it 
 at my expense. He sees much fui-ther in this matter, than I do, 
 and I shall always prefer that people should laugh at mo while 
 they instruct, than that they should praise me without bene- 
 fitting me. He had noticed what things I was most immedi- 
 ately pleased with, and after a short acquaintance did not 
 hesitate to avow that in the objects that so transported mo 
 there might be much that was tndy estimable, and which 
 time alone would enable me to distinguish. 
 
 But I turn from this sxxbject and must now, however cir- 
 cuitously, come to the matter which, though reluctantly, I 
 cannot but confide to you. I can see you in your room, in 
 your little garden, where, over a pipe of tobacco, you will 
 probably break the seal and read this letter. Can your 
 thoughts follow me into this free and motley world ? Will the 
 circumstances and true state of the case become clear to your 
 imagination? And will you be as indulgent towards your 
 absent friend as I have often found you when present? 
 
 When my artistic friend became better acquainted with me, 
 and judged me worthy of being gradually introduced to better 
 pieces of art, he one day, not without a most mysterious look, 
 took me to a case, which, being opened, displayed a Danac, of 
 the size of life, receiving in her bosom the golden shower. I 
 was amazed at the splendour of the limbs — the magnificence 
 of the posture and arrangement — the intense tenderness and 
 the intellectuality of the sensual subject ; and yet I did but 
 stand before it in silent contemplation. It did not excite in 
 me that rapture, fhaf dehght, that inexpressible pleasure. 
 My friend, who went on descanting upon the merits of the pic- 
 tm-e, was too full of his own enthusiasm to notice my coldness, 
 and was delighted with the ojjportimity this painting aff'ordccf 
 him of pointing out the distinctive excellences of the Italian 
 School. 
 
 But the sight of this picture has not made me happy — it has 
 made me uneasy. How I said I to myself — in what a stiange 
 case do we civilized men find ourselves with our many conven- 
 tional restraints ! A mossy rock, a waterfoU rivets my eye so 
 long that I can tell everything about it — its heights, its cavities.
 
 STUDIES OF THE NUDE. 181 
 
 its lights and shades, its hues, its blending tints and reflections 
 — aU is distinctly present to my mind ; and whenever I please, 
 comes vividly before me, in a most happy imitation. But of 
 that masterpeice of Nature, the human frame — of the order 
 and symmetry of the limbs, of all this I have but a very gene- 
 ral notion — which in fact is no notion at all. My imagination 
 presents to me anything but a vivid image of this glorious 
 structure, and when art presents an imitation of it, to my eye 
 it awakens in mo no sensation and I am unable tojudgeof the 
 -merits of the picture. No, I >vill remain no longer in this 
 state of stupidity. T Avill stamp on my mind the shape of man, 
 as well as that of a cluster of gi-apes or of a peach-tree. 
 
 I sought an occasion and got Ferdinand to take a swim in 
 the lake. What a glorious shape has my friend ; how duly 
 proportioned are all his limbs: what ftdness of form; what 
 ^splendour of youth! What a gain to have enriched my ima- 
 gination with this perfect model of manliood ! Now I can 
 people the woods, the meadow, and the hills, with similar fine 
 forms! I can see him as Adonis chasing the boar, or as Nar- 
 cissus contemplating himself in the mirror of the spring. 
 
 But alas ! my imagination cannot furnish, as yet, a Venus, 
 -who holds him from the chace, a Venus who bewails his 
 death, or a beautiful Echo casting one sad look more on the 
 cold coi-pse of the youth before she vanishes for ever ! I have 
 therefore resolved, cost what it will, to see a female form in 
 the state that I have seen my friend. 
 
 When, therefore, we reached Geneva, I made arrangements; 
 in the character of an artist to complete my studies of the 
 nude -figure, and to-morrow evening my wish is to be 
 gratified. 
 
 I cannot avoid going to-day with Ferdinand to a grand 
 party. It will form an excellent foil to the studies of this 
 evening. Well enough do I know those formal parties where 
 the old women require you to play at cards A^th th(yn, and 
 the young ones to ogle with them ; where you must listen to 
 the learned, pay respect to the parson, and give way to the 
 noble, where the numerous lights show you scarcely one tole- 
 rable form, and that one hidden and buried beneath some 
 barbarous load of frippery. I shall have to speak French, 
 too, — a foreign tongue — the ixse of which always makes a
 
 182 LETTEKS FKOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 man appear silly, whatever he may think of himself, since the 
 best he can express in it is nothing but common place, and 
 the most obvious of remarks, and that, too, only with stammer- 
 ing and hesitating lips. For what is it that distinguishes the 
 blockhead from the really clever man but the pecuUar quick- 
 ness and vividness with which the latter discerns the nicer 
 shades and proprieties of all that come before him, and ex- 
 presses himself thereon with facility; whereas the former, 
 (just as we all do with a foreign language,) is forced on every 
 occasion to have recourse to some ready found and conver- 
 sational phrase or other? To-day I will calmly put up with 
 the sorry entertainment, in expectation of the rare scene of 
 nature which awaits me in the evenina;. 
 
 My adventm-e is over. It has fiiUy equalled my expectation 
 — ^nay, surpassed it ; and yet I know not whether to congra- 
 tulate, or to blame myself on account of it. 
 
 Pabt the Second. 
 
 Munster, October 3, 1797. 
 
 From Basle you will receive a packet containing an account 
 of my travels up to that poiat, for we are now continuing in 
 good earnest oux tours tlirough Switzerland. On our route 
 to Biel we rode up the beautiful valley of the Birsch, and at 
 last reached the pass which leads to this place. 
 
 Among the ridges of the broad and lofty range of moun- 
 taias the little stream of the Birsch found of old a channel for 
 itself. Necessity soon after may have diiven men to 
 clamber wearily and painfully through its gorges. The 
 Romans in their time enlarged the track, and now you may 
 travel through it with perfect ease. The stream, dashing over 
 crags and rocks, and the road run side by side, and except 
 at a few points, these make up the whole breadth of the pass 
 which is hemmed in by rocks, the top of which is easily reached 
 by the eye. Behind them the mountain chain rose with a 
 slight inclination ; the summits, however, were veiled by a mist. 
 
 Here walls of rock rise precipitously one above another ; 
 there immense strata run obliquely doAvn to the river and the 
 road — here again broad masses lie piled one over another, 
 •while close beside stands a line of sharp-pointed crags. Wide
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE BIESCH. 183 
 
 clefts run yawning upwards, and blocks, of the size of a 
 wall, have detached themselves from the rest of the stony 
 mass. Some fragments of the rock have rolled to the 
 bottom ; others are still suspended, and by their position 
 alarm you, as also likely at any moment to come toppling down. 
 Now round, now pointed, now overgrown, now bare are 
 the tops of these rocks among and high above which some 
 single bald summit boldly towers, while along the perpendi- 
 cular cliffs and among the hollows below, the weather has 
 worn many a deep and winding cranny. 
 
 The passage through this defile raised in me a grand but 
 calm emotion. The sublime produces a beautiful calmness 
 in the soul which entirely possessed by it, feels as great as it 
 ever can feel. How glorious is such a pure feeUng, when it 
 rises to the very highest, without overflowing. My eye and 
 my soul were both able to take in the objects before me, and 
 as I was pre-occupied by nothing, and had no false tastes to 
 counteract their impression, they had on me their full and 
 natural effect. When we compare such a feeling with that 
 we are sensible of, when we laboriously harass ourselves with 
 some trifle, and strain every nerve to gain as much as possible 
 for it, and as it were, to patch it out, striving to furnish joy 
 and aliment to the mind from its own creation ; we then feel 
 sensibly what a poor expedient, after all, the latter is. 
 
 A yoimg man, whom we have had for our companion from 
 Basle, said his feelings were very far from what they were 
 on his first visit, and gave all the honour to novelty. I how- 
 ever would say, when we see such objects as these for the 
 first time, the unaccustomed soul has to expand itself, and 
 this gives rise to a sort of painfid joy — an overflowing of 
 emotion which agitates the mind, and draws from us the 
 most delicious tears. By this operation the soul, without know- 
 ing it, becomes greater in itself, and is of course- not capable 
 of ever feeling again such a sensation, and man thinks in con- 
 sequence that he has lost something, whereas in fact lie has 
 gained. What he loses in delight he gains in inward riches. 
 Tf only destiny had bidden me to dwell in the midst of some 
 grand scenery, then would I eveiy morning have imbibed 
 greatness from its grandeur, as from a lonely valley I would 
 extract patience and repose. 
 
 After reaching the end of the gorge I alighted, and went
 
 184 rETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 back alone through a part of the valley. I thus called forth 
 another profound feeling — one by which the attentive mind 
 may expand its joys to a high degi'ec. One guesses in the 
 dark about the origin and existence of these singular forms. 
 It may have happened, when and how it may, — these masses 
 must, according to the laws of gravity and affinity, have been 
 formed grandly and simply by aggregation. AVbatever revo- 
 lutions may subsequently have upheaved, rent and divided 
 them, the latter were only partial con%Tilsions, and even the 
 idea of such mighty commotions gives one a deep feeling of the 
 eternal stability of the masses. Time, too, bound by the ever- 
 lasting law, has had here greater, here less, effect upon them. 
 
 Internally their colour appears to be yellowish. The air, 
 however, and the weather has changed the surfice into a 
 bluish- grey, so that the original colom* is only ■\isible here 
 and there in streaks and in the fi*esh cracks. The stone itself 
 sloAvly crumbles beneath the influence of the weather, becoming 
 rounded at the edges, as the softer flakes wear away. In this 
 manner have been formed hollows and cavities gracefully 
 shehing off, which when they have sharp slanting and 
 pointed edges, present a singular appearance. 
 
 Vegetation maintains its rights on every ledge, on every 
 flat surface, for in every fissure the pines strike root, and 
 the mosses and plants spread themselves over the rocks. One 
 feels deeply convinced that here there is nothing accidental ; 
 that here there is working an eternal law which, however 
 .slowly, yet surely governs the universe, — that there is nothing 
 here from the hand of man but the convenient road, bv means 
 of which this singular region is traversed. 
 
 I Geneva, October 27, 1779. 
 
 The great moimtain-rauge which, running from Basle to 
 Geneva, divides Switzerland from France, is, as you are aware, 
 named the Jura. Its principal heights run by Lausanne, 
 and reach as far as Ilolle and Nyon. In the midst of this 
 simimit ridge Natm-e has cut out — I might almost say washed 
 out — a remarkable valley, for ou the tops of all these lime- 
 stone rocks the operation of the primal waters is mani- 
 fest. It is called La Vallee de Joux, which means the 
 Valley of the ilock, since Joux iu the local dialect signifies a
 
 J.X VAXLEE T>E JOUX. 185 
 
 Tock. Before I proceed with the further description of oui- 
 journey, I will give you a brief geographical account of its 
 situation. Lengthwise it stretches like the mountain range 
 itself almost directly from south to north, and is locked in on 
 the one side by Sept Moncels, and on the other by Dent de 
 Vaulion, which, after the Dole, is the highest peak of the 
 Jura. Its length, according to the statement of the neigh- 
 bourhood, is nine short leagues, but according to our rough 
 reckoning as we rode through it, six good leagues. The 
 mountainous ridge which bounds it lengthwise on the north, 
 and is also ■\isible from the flat lands, is called the Black 
 Mountain (Le Noir Mont). Towards the west the Risou rises 
 gi-adually, and slopes away towards Franche Comte. France 
 and Berne divide the valley pretty evenly between them ; the 
 former claiming the tipper and inferior half, and the latter 
 possessing the lower and better portion, which is properly 
 called La Vallee du Lac de Joux. Quite at the upper part 
 of the valley, and at the foot of Sept Moncels, lies the liac des 
 Rousses, which has no single visible origin, but gathers its 
 waters from the numerous springs which here gush out of the 
 soil, and from the little brooks which run into the lake from 
 all sides. Out of it flows the Orbe, which . after rmming 
 through the whole of the French, and a great portion of the 
 Bernese territory, forms lower down, and towards the 
 Dent de Vaulion, the Lac de Joux, which falls on one side into 
 a smaller lake, the waters of which have some subterraneous 
 outlet. The breadth of the valley varies ; above, near the 
 Lac des Rousses it is nearly half a league, then it closes in to 
 expand again presently, arid to reach its greatest breath, 
 which is nenrly a league and a-half. So much to enable you 
 better to \mderstand what follows ; Avhile you read it, how- 
 ever, I would beg you now and then to cast a glance upon 
 vour map, although, so far as concerns this country, I have 
 found them all to be incorrect. 
 
 October 24/A. In company with a .captain and an :upper 
 ranger of the forests in these parts, we rode first of all up 
 Mont, a little scattered village, which much more correctly 
 might be called a line of husbandmen's and vinedressers' 
 cottages. The weather was extremely clear ; when we turned 
 to look behind us, we had a A'iew of the Lake of Geneva, 
 the mountains of Savoy and A'alais, and could just catch
 
 186 XETTEES FKOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 Lausanne, and also, through a light mist, the country rcjnd 
 Geneva, Mont Blanc, which towers above aU the mountains 
 of Faucigni, stood out more and more distinctly. It was a 
 brilliant sunset, and the view was so grand, that no hmnan 
 eye was equal to it. The moon rose almost at the full, as we 
 got continually higher. Through large pine forests we conti- 
 nued to ascend the Jm'a, and saw the lake in a mist, and in it 
 the reflection of the moon. It became lighter and lighter. 
 The road is a well-made causeway, though it was laid down 
 merely for the sake of faciUtating the transport of the timber 
 to the plains below. We had been ascending for full three 
 leagues before the road began gently to descend. We thought 
 we saw below us a vast lake, for a thick mist filled the whole 
 Talley which we overlooked. Presently we came nearer to 
 the mist, and observed a white bow which the moon formed in 
 it, and were soon enlLrely enveloped in the fog. The com- 
 pany of the captain procured us lodgings in a house where 
 strangers were not usually entertained. In its internal ar- 
 rangement it differed in nothing from usual buildings of the 
 same kind, except that the great room in the centre was at 
 once the kitchen, the ante-room,- and general gathering-place 
 of the family, and from it you entered at once into the 
 sleeping- rooms, which were either on the same floor with it, or 
 had to be approached by steps. On the one side was the fire, 
 which was burning on the ground on some stone slabs, while 
 a chimney, built dm-ably and neatly of planks, received and 
 carried off the smoke. In the corner were the doors of the 
 oven ; all the rest of the floor was of wood, with the except 
 tion of a small piece near the window around the sink, which 
 was paved. Moreover, all aroimd, and over head on the 
 beams a multitude of domestic articles and utensils were 
 arranged in beautiful order, and all kept nice and clean. 
 
 October 25th. — This morning the weather was cold but clear, 
 the meadows covered with hoar fiost, and here and there 
 light clouds were floating in the air. We could pretty nearly 
 survey the whole of the lower valley, om- house being situated 
 at the foot of the eastern side of Noir Mont. About eight we 
 set off, and in order to enjoy the sun fully, proceeded on the 
 western side. The part of the valley we now traversed was 
 divided into meadows, which, towards the lake were rather 
 swampy. The inhabitants either dwell in detached houses'
 
 THE DENT DE TAtTLION. 187 
 
 built by the side of their farms, or else have gathered closer 
 together in little villages, which bear simple names derived 
 from their several sites. The first of those that we passed 
 through was called " Le Sentier." We saw at a distance the 
 Dent de Vaulion peeping out over a mist which rested on 
 the lake. The valley grew broader, but our road now lay behind 
 a ridge of rock which shut out our view of the lake, and then 
 through another village called " Le Lieu." The mist arose, and 
 fell off highly variegated by the sun. Close hereto is a small 
 lake, which apparently has neither inlet nor outlet of its 
 waters. The weather cleared up completely as we came 
 to the foot of Dent de Vaulion, and reached the northern 
 extremity of the great lake, which, as it turns westward, 
 empties itself into a smaller by a dam beneath the bridge. 
 The village just above is called " Le Pout." The situation 
 of. the smaller lake is what you may easily conceive, as being 
 in a peculiar little valley which may be called pretty. At the 
 western extremity there is a singular mill, built in a ravine of 
 the rock which the smaller lake used fonnerly to fill. At 
 present it is dammed out of the mill which is erected in the 
 hoUow below. The water is conveyed by sluices to the wheel, 
 from which it falls into crannies of the rock, and being sucked 
 in by them, does not show itself again till it reaches Valorbe, 
 which is a full league off, where it again bears the name of 
 the Orbe. These outlets {enton7ioirs) require to be kept clear, 
 otherwise the water would rise and agam fill the ra^^ne, and 
 overflow the mill as it has often done akcady. We saw the 
 people hard at work removing the worn pieces of the lime- 
 stone and replacing them by others. 
 
 We rode back again over the bridge towards " Le Pont," 
 and took a guide for the Dent du Vaulion. In ascending it 
 we now had the great Lake directly behind us. To the cast 
 its boundary is the Noir Mont, behind which the bald peak of 
 the Dole rises up ; to the west it is shut in by the moimtain 
 ridge, which on tiic side of the lake is perfectly bare. Th^ sun 
 felt hot: it was between eleven and twelve o'clock. By 
 degrees we gained a sight of the whole vaUey, and were able 
 to discern in the distance the " Lac des Rousses," and then 
 stretching to om* feet the district we had just ridden through 
 and the road which remained for our return. During the 
 ascent my guide discoursed of the whole range of the coimtry
 
 188 LETTEKS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 and the lordships -which, he said, it was possible to distin^ish 
 from the peak. In the midst of such talk we reached the 
 summit. But a very diifereut spectacle was prepared for us. 
 Under a bright and clear sky nothing was visible but the high 
 m.ountain chain, all the lower regions were covered with a white 
 sea of cloudy mist, Avhich stretched from Geneva northwards, 
 along the horizon and glittered brilliantly in the sunshine. 
 Out of it, rose to the cast, the whole line of snow and ice- 
 ca])t mountains acknowledging no distinction of names of 
 either the Princes or Peoples, who fancied they were owners of 
 them, and owning subjection only to one Lord, and to the glance 
 of the Sun which was tinging them with a beautiful red. Mont 
 Blanc, right opposite to us, seemed the highest, next to it were 
 the ice-crowned summits of 'N'^alais and Oberland, and lastly, 
 came the lower mountains of the Canton of Berne. Towards 
 the west, the sea of mist which was imconfined to one spot ; 
 on the left, in the remotest distance, appeared the mountains 
 of Solothurn ; somewhat nearer those of Neufchatel, and right 
 before us some of the lower heights of the Jura. Just below, 
 lay some of the masses of the "N'aulion, to which belongs the 
 Dent, (tooth) which takes from it its name. To the west, 
 Pranche-Comte, with its flat, outstretched and wood-covered 
 hills, shut in the whole horizon : in the distance, towards the 
 north-west, one single mass stood out distinct from all the rest. 
 Straight before us, however, was a beautiful object. This was 
 the peak which gives this summit the name of a tooth. It de- 
 scends precipitously, or rather with a slight cm've, inwards, and 
 in the bottom it is succeeded by a small valley of pine-trees, with 
 beautiful grassy patches here and there, while right beyond it 
 lies the valley of the Orbe (Val-orbc), where you see this stream 
 coming out of the rock, and can trace, in thought, its route 
 backwards to the smaller lake. The little town of Valorbe, 
 also lies in this vaUey. Most reluctantly we quitted the spot. 
 A delay of a few hours longer, (for the mist generally disperses 
 in about that time), would have enabled us to distinguish the 
 low lands with the lake — but in order that our enjoyment should 
 be perfect, we must always have something behind still to be 
 wished. As we descended we had the whole valley lying 
 perfectly distinct before us. At Le Pout we again mounted 
 our horses, and rode to the east side of the lake, and passed 
 thiough lAbbayc de Joux, which at present is a village, but
 
 THE DOLE. 189 
 
 Once was a settlement of monks, to whom the Avhole valley be- 
 longed. To\yards four, wo reached our auberge and found our 
 meal ready, of which we were assured by our hostess that at 
 twelve o'clock it would have been good eating, and which, 
 overdone as it was, tasted excellently. 
 
 Let me now add a few particulars just as they were told 
 me. As I mentioned just now. the valley belonged formerly 
 to the monks, who having divided it again to feudatories, were 
 with the rest ejected at the Reformation. At present it 
 belongs to the Canton of Berne, and the mountains around arc 
 the timber-stores of the Pays de Vaud. Most of the timber 
 is private property, and is cut up under supervision, and then 
 carried do^vn into' the plains. The planks are also made here 
 into deal utensils of all kinds, and pails, tubs, and similar 
 articles manufactured. 
 
 The people are civil and well disposed. Besides their trade 
 in wood, they also breed cattle. Their beasts are of a small 
 size. The cheese they make is excellent. They are very- 
 industrious, and a clod of earth is with them a great treasure. 
 We saw one man with a horse and car, carefully collecting the 
 earth which had been thrown uj) out of a ditch, and carrying 
 it to some hollow places in the same field. They lay the 
 stones carefully together, and make little heaps of them. 
 There are here many stone-polishers, who work for the Gene- 
 vese and other tradesmen, and this business furnishes occu- 
 pation for many women and children. The houses arc neat 
 but durable, the form and internal arrangements being de- 
 termined by the locality and the wants of the inmates. Before 
 every house there is a running stream, and everywhere you 
 see signs of industry, activity, and wealth. But above all 
 things is the highest praise due to the excellent roads, which, 
 in this remote region, as also in all the other cantons, arc 
 kept up by that of Berne. A causeway is canied all round 
 the vaUey, not unnecessarily broad, but in excellent repair, so 
 that the inhabitants can pursue their avocations without in- 
 convenience, and with their small horses and light carts pass 
 easily along. TTae air is very pure and salubrious. 
 
 26//i Oct. — Over our breakfast we deliberated as to the 
 road we should take on om- return. As we heard that the 
 Dole, the highest summit of the Jma, lay at no great distance 
 from the upper end of the valley, and as the weather promised 
 to be most glorious, so that mc might to-day hope to enjoy
 
 190 LETTERS FEOM SWITZEKLAXD. 
 
 all that cliance denied us yesterday, we finally determined to 
 take this route. We loaded a gviide with bread and cheese, 
 and butter and wine, and by 8 o'clock mounted our horses. 
 Our route now lay along the upper part of the valley, in the 
 shade of Noir Mont. It was extremely cold, and there had 
 been a sharp hoar-frost. We had stiU a good league to ride 
 through the part belonging to Berne, before the causeway 
 which there terminates branches off into two parts. Through 
 a little wood of pine trees we entered the French territory. 
 Here the scene changed greatly. What first excited our 
 attention was the wretched roads. The .soil is rather stony ; 
 everjnyhere you see great heaps of those which have been 
 picked off the fields. Soon you come to a part which is veiy 
 marshy and full of springs. The Avoods all around you are 
 in wretched condition. In all the houses and people you recog- 
 nise, I will not say want, but certainly a hard and meagre sub- 
 sistence. They belong, almost as serfs, to the canons of S. 
 Claude ; they are bound to the soQ {glebce astn'cti), and are 
 oppressed with imposts {stijeis a la main-morfe et au droit de 
 la suite), of which we will hereafter have some talk together, as 
 also of a late edict of the king's repealing the droit de la suite, 
 and inviting the owners and occupiers to redeem the main-morte 
 for a certain compensation. But still even this portion of the 
 valley is well cultivated. The people love their covmtry dearly, 
 though they lead a hard life, being diiven occasionally to steal 
 the wood from the Bernese, and sell it again in the lowlands. 
 The first division is called the Bois d' Amant ; after passing 
 through it, we entered the parish of Les Rousses, where we saw 
 before us the little Lake des Rousses and Les Sept Moncels,— 
 seven small liiUs of different shapes, but all connected together, 
 which form the southern limit of the valley. We soon came 
 upon the new road which runs fi-om the Pays do Vaud to Paris. 
 "VVe kept to this for a mile do-v^mwards, and now left entirely 
 the valley. The bare summit of the Dole was before us. We 
 alighted from om* horses, and sent them on by the road towards 
 S. Cergue while we ascended the Dole. It was near noon ; 
 the sun felt hot, but a cool south wind came noAv and then to 
 refresh us. When we looked round for a halting-place, we 
 had behind us Les Sept Moncels, we could still see a part of 
 the Lac des Eousses, and aromid it the scattered houses of the 
 parish. The rest of the valley was hidden from our eye by 
 the Noir Mont, above which we again saw our yesterday's
 
 VIEW FROM THE DOLE. 191 
 
 view of Franche-Comte, and nearer at hand southwards, the last 
 summits and valle5^s of the Jura. We carefully avoided taking 
 advantage of a little peep in the hill, which would have given 
 us a glimpse of the coimtry, for the sake of which in reality 
 our ascent was undertaken. I was in some anxiety about the 
 mist; however, from the aspect of the sky above, I drew a 
 favourable omen. At last we stood on the highest siimmit, 
 and saw with the greatest delight that to-day we were in- 
 dulged with aU that yesterday had been denied us. The whole 
 of the Pays de Vaux and de Gex lay like a plan before us : 
 all the different holdings divided off with green hedges like 
 the beds of a parterre. We were so high that the rising 
 and sinking of the landscape before us was imnoticeable. 
 Villages, little towns, country-houses, vine-covered hills, and 
 higher up still, where the forests and Alps begin, the cow- 
 sheds mostly painted white, or some other light coloui-, all 
 glittered in the sunshine. The mist had already rolled off 
 from Lake Leman. We saw the nearest part of the coast on 
 our side, quite clear ; of the so-called smaller lake, where the 
 larger lake contracts itself, and turns towards Geneva, which 
 was right opposite to us, we had a complete view ; and on 
 the other side the country which shuts it in was gradually 
 clearing. But nothing could vie with the xiew of the moim- 
 tains covered with snow and glaciers. We sat down before 
 some rocks to shelter us from the cold wind, with the sunshine 
 full upon us, and highly relished our little meal. We kept 
 watching the mist, which gradually retired ; each one disco- 
 vered, or fancied he discovered, some object or other. One by 
 one we distinctly saw Lausanne, surrounded with its houses, and 
 gardens; then Bevay, and the castle of ChUlon ; the moimtains, 
 which shut out from our view the entrance into Valais, and 
 extended as far as the lake ; from thence the borders of Savoy, 
 Evian, RepaiUe, and Tonon, with a sprinkling of villages and 
 farm-houses between them. At last Geneva stood clear from 
 the "mist, but beyond and towards the south, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Monte Credo and Monte Vauche, it still hung immove- 
 able. When the eye turned to the left it caught sight of the 
 whole of the lowlands from Lausanne, as far as Solothum, 
 covered with a light halo. The nearer mountains and heights, 
 and every spot that had a white house on it, could be closely dis- 
 tinguished. The guides pointed out a glimmering which they
 
 192 LETTERS FUOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 said was the castle of Cliauvan, which lies to the left of the 
 jSeiiber!:;er-See. We were just able to guess whereabouts it lay, 
 but could not distinguish it through the bluish haze. There 
 are no words to express the grandeur and beauty of this view. 
 At the moment everj' one is scarcely conscious of what he 
 sees: — one does but recall the names and sites of well-known 
 cities aud localities, to rejoice in a vague conjecture that he 
 recognizes them in certain white spots which strike his eye 
 in the prospect before him. 
 
 And then the line of glittering glaciers was continually draw- 
 ing the eye back again to the mountains. The sun made his 
 ■way towards the west, and lighted up their great flat surfaces, 
 which were turned towards us. How beautifully before them 
 rose from aboAC the snow the variegated rows of black rocks : — 
 teeth, — towers, — walls! Wild, vast, inaccessible vestibules I 
 aud seeming to stand there in the free air in the first purity 
 aud freshness of their manifold variety! Man gives up at 
 once all j)retcusions to the infinite, while he here feels that 
 neither with thought nor vision is he equal to the fiinite ! 
 
 Before us we saw a fruitful and populous plain. The spot 
 on which we were standing was a high, bare mountain rock, 
 which, however, produces a sort of grass as food for the cattle, 
 which are here a great source of gain. This the conceited 
 lord of creation may yet make his own: — but those rocks be- 
 fore his eyes are like a train of holy virgins which the spirit of 
 heaven reserves for itself alone in these inaccessible regions. 
 We tarried awhile, tempting each other in turn to try and 
 discover cities, mountains, and regions, now with the naked 
 eye, now with the telescope, and did not begin to descend till 
 the setting sun gave permission to the mist, — his o^^Ti part- 
 ing breath, — to spread itself over the lake. 
 
 With sunset we reached the ruins of the fort of S. Cergue. 
 Even when we got down in the valley, our eyes were still 
 rivetted on the mountain glaciers. The fui-thest of these, 
 Ijdng on our left in Oberland, seemed almost to be melting 
 into a light fiery vapour ; those still nearer stood with their 
 sides towards us, still glowing and red ; but by degrees they 
 became white, green, and grajash. There was something 
 melancholy in the sight. Like a powerful body over which 
 death is gradually passing from the extremities to the heart, 
 so the whole range gradually paled away as far as Mont
 
 GENEVA. 19" 
 
 Blanc, whose ampler bosom was still covered all over with a 
 deep red blush, and even appeared to us to retain a rcddi^ih 
 tint to the very last, — ^justas when one is watching the death 
 of a dear friend, life still seems to linger, and it is difficult to 
 determine the very moment when the pulse ceases to beat. 
 
 This time also we were very loth to depart. We found our 
 horses in S. Cergue ; and that nothing might be wanting to our 
 fujoyment, the moon rose and lighted us to Nyon. While on 
 the way, our strained and excited feelings were gradually 
 calmed, and assumed their wonted tone, so that we were able 
 with keen gratification to enjoy, from om- inn window, the 
 glorious moonlight which was spread over the lake. 
 
 At different spots of our travels so much was said of the 
 remarkable character of the glaciers of Savoy, and when we 
 reached Geneva we were told it was becoming more and more 
 the fashion to visit them, that the Count"'-" wa.s seized with a 
 strange desire to bend our course in that direction, and from 
 Geneva to cross Cluse and Salenche, and enter the valley of 
 diamouni, and after contem|)lating its wonderful objects, 
 to go on by Valorsine and Trent into Valais. This route, 
 however, Avhich was the one usually pursued by travellers, was 
 thought dangerous in this season of the year. A visit was 
 therefore paid to M. de Saussure at his country-house. 
 and his advice requested, lie assured us that we need not 
 hesitate to take that route ; there was no snow as yet on the 
 middle-si/.ed mountains, and if on our road we were attentive 
 to the signs of the weather and the advice of the country- 
 pe()i)le, who were seldom wrong in their judgment, we might 
 enter upon this journey with perfect safety. Here is the copy 
 of the journal of a day's hard travelling. 
 
 Cluse, in Savoy, Nov. 3, 1779. 
 To-day on de])arting from Geneva our party divided. -Tho 
 Co uit A-,ith me and a huntsman took the route to Savoy. 
 Friend W. with the horses proceeded through the Pays dc 
 Vand for Valais. In a light four-wheeled cabriolet we jn'o- 
 ceeded first of all to visit H'dber at his eountry-seat, — a man 
 out of whom, mind, imagination and imitative tact, oozes at 
 
 *' The Duke Charles Augustus of Weimar, who tra^t'iltd under the 
 title of Count of ... . 
 
 Vol. II. O
 
 194 LETTEKS FROM SWITZEKLAND. 
 
 every pore, — one of the very few thorough men we have met 
 with. He saw us well on our way, and then we set off with 
 the lofty snow-capped mountains, which we wished to reach, 
 before our eyes. Frcfm the Lake of Geneva the mountain- 
 chains verge towards each other to the point where Bonneville 
 lies, half way between the Mole, a considerable mountain, and 
 the Arve. There we took our dinner. Behind the town the 
 valley closes right in. Although not very broad, it has the 
 Arve flowing gently through it, and is on the southern side well 
 cultivated, and everywhere the soil is put to some profit. From 
 the early morning we had been in fear of its raining some time 
 at least before night, but the clouds gradually quitted the moun- 
 tains, and dispersed into fleeces, — a sign which has more than 
 once in our experience proved a favourable omen. The air 
 was as warm as it usually is in the beginning of September, 
 and the country \vc travelled through beautiful. Many of the 
 trees being still green ; most of them had assumed a bi-ownish- 
 yellow tint, but only a few were quite bare. The crops were 
 rich and verdant; the moimtains caught from the red sunset 
 a rosy hue, blended with violet ; and all these rich tints 
 were combined with grand, beautifid, and agreeable forms 
 of the landscape. We talked over much that was good. 
 Towards 5 we came towards Clusc, where the valley closes, and 
 has only one outlet, through which the Arve issues from the 
 mountains, and by which also Ave propose to enter theni 
 to-morrow. We ascended a lofty eminence, and saw be- 
 neath us the city, partly built on the slightly inclined side of 
 a rock, but partly on the flat portion of the valley. Our eyes 
 ranged with pleasure o\cr the valley, and sitting on the 
 granite rocks we awaited the coming of night in calm and 
 varied discourse. Towards seven, as v/e descended, it was 
 not at all colder than it is usually in summer about nine. At 
 a miserable inn (where, however, the people were ready and 
 willing, and by their patois afic^rded us much amusement) we 
 are now going, about ten o'clock, to bed. intending to set out 
 early to-mon-ow, before the morning shall dawn. 
 
 Sahnche, Nov. 4, 1779. Noon. 
 Whilst a dinner is being prepared by very willing hands. 
 I will attem]>t to set down the most remarkable incideits of 
 our yesterday's journey, which commenced with the early
 
 THE CAVERN OF XHK COL DE BALME. 195 
 
 morning. With break of day we set out on foot from Cluse, 
 taking the road towards Balme. In the valley the air was 
 agreeably fresh ; the moon, in her last quarter, rose bright 
 before the sun, and charmed us with the sight, as being one 
 which we do not often see. Single light vapours rose upwards 
 from all the chasms in the rocks. It seemed as if the morning 
 air were awakening the young spirits, who took pleasure in 
 meeting the sun with expanded bosoms and gilding them in 
 his rays. The upper heaven was perfectly clear ; except where 
 now and then a single cloudy streak, which the rising sun lit 
 up, swept lightly across it. Balme is a miserable village, not 
 £ir from the spot where a rocky gorge runs ofi' from the road. 
 We asked the people to guide us through the cave for which 
 the place is famous. At this they kept looking at one 
 another, tiU at last one said to a second, '• Take you the 
 ladder, I wiU carry the rope, — come, gentlemen."' ThL" 
 sti-angc invitation did not deter us from following them. 
 Our line of descent passed first of all among fallen masses of 
 limestone rock, which by the course of time had been piled 
 up step by step in front of the precipitous A^■all of rock, and 
 were now overgrown with bushes of hazel and beech. Over 
 these you reach at last the strata of the rock itself, which 
 you have to climb up slowly and painfully by means of the 
 ladder and of the steps cut into the rock, and by help of 
 branches of the nut-trees, which hung over head, or of 
 pieces of rope tied to them. After this you find yourself, to 
 your great satisfaction, in a kind of portal, uhich has been worn 
 out of the rock by the weather, and overlooks the valley and 
 the village below. We now prepared for entering the cave : 
 lighted our candles and loaded a pistol which we proposed to 
 let off. The cave is a long gallery, mostly level and on one 
 strand; in parts broad enough for two men to walk abreast, 
 in others only passable by one; now high enough to walk 
 upright, then obliging you to stoop, and sometimes even to 
 crawl on hands and feet. Nearly about the middle a' cleft 
 runs upwards and forms a sort of a dome. . In one corner ano- 
 ther goes downwards. We threw several stones down it, and 
 counted slowly from seventeen to nineteen before it reached 
 the bottom, after touching the sides many times, but always 
 with a different echo. On the walls a stalactite forms its 
 various devices; however it is only damp in a very few places, 
 
 o 2
 
 196 LETTERS FKOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 and forms for the most part long drops, and not those rich and 
 rare shapes Avhich are so remarkable in Baumann"s cave. We 
 penetrated as far as we could for the water, and as we came 
 out let off our pistol, which shook the cave with a strong but 
 dull echo, so that it boomed round us like a bell. It took us 
 a good quarter of an hour to get out again, and ou descend- 
 ing the rocks, Ave found om* caiTiage and di'ove onwards. 
 At Staubbachs-Art we saw a beautiful waterfall; jicither 
 its height was very great nor its volume very large, and yet it 
 was extremely interesting, for the rocks formed around it, 
 as it were, a circular niche in which its waters fell, and the 
 pieces of the limestone as they were tumbled one over another 
 formed the most rare and unusual groups. 
 
 We arrived here at mid-day, not quite hungry enough to 
 relish our dinner, which consisted of warmed fish, cow beef, 
 and very stale bread. From this place there is no road 
 leading to the mountains that is passable for so stately an 
 equipage as we have with us: it therefore returns to Geneva, 
 and I now must take my leave of you, in order to pursue my 
 route a little further. A raide with my luggage wiU foUow 
 •us as we pick our Avay on foot. 
 
 CJiamouni, Nov. 4, 1779. 
 Evening, about 9 o'clock. 
 
 It is only because this letter will bring me for awhile nearer 
 to yourself that I resume my pen ; otherwise it woidd be 
 better for me to give my mind a little rest. 
 
 We left Salenche behind us in a lovely open valley ; dm-ing 
 our noonday's rest the sky had become overcast with white 
 fleecy clouds, about which I have here a special remark to 
 make. We had seen them on a bright day rise equally fine, 
 if not still finer, from the glaciers of Bei-ne. Here too it 
 again seemed to us as if the sun. had first of all attracted the 
 light mists which evaporated from the tops of the glaciers, 
 and then a gentle breeze had, as it were, combed the fine 
 vapours, like a fleece of foam over the atmosphere. I never re- 
 member at home, even in the height of summer, (when such 
 phenomena do also occur with us,) to have seen any so trans- 
 parent, for here it was a perfect web of lijiht. Before long 
 the ice-covered mountains from which it rose lay before us ; the
 
 THE VALLEY OF CHAMOUNI WONT ELANC. 197 
 
 valley began to close in ; the Arve was gushing out of the 
 rock; we now began to ascend a mountain, and went up higher 
 and higher, with the snowy summits right before us. Moun- 
 tains and old pine forests, either in the hollows below or on 
 a level with om- track, came out one by one ])efore the eye 
 as we proceeded. On our left were the mountain-peaks, bare 
 and pointed. AVe felt that we Avere appioaching a mightier 
 and more massive chain of mountains. AVe passed over a 
 dry and broad bed of stones and gi-avel, which the water- 
 courses tear down fi-om the sides of the rocks, and in turn 
 flow among and fill up. This brought us into an agreeable 
 valley, flat, and shut in by a circular ridge of rocks, in which 
 lies the little village of Serves. There the road runs round 
 some very highly variegated rocks, and talvcs again the direc- 
 tion towards the Arve. After crossing the latter you again 
 ascend ; the masses become constantly more imposing, natxu-c 
 seems to have begun here with a light hand, to prepare 
 her enormous creations. The darkness grew deeper and 
 deeper as we ajjproached the valley of Chamouni, and when at 
 last we entered it, nothing but the larger masses were dis- 
 cernible. The stars came out one by one, and we noticed 
 above the peaks of the summits right before us, a light which 
 we could not account for. Clear, but Avithout brilliancy, like 
 the milky way, but closer, something like that of the Pleiades ; 
 it rivetted our attention until at last, as our position changed, 
 like a pyramid illuminated by a secret light within, Avhich 
 could best be c()m])ared to the gleam of a glow-worm, it 
 towered high above the peaks of all the surrounding mountains, 
 and at last convinced us that it must bo the peak of Mont 
 I'jlanc. The l)eauty of this vicAv was extraordinary. For 
 while, together with the stars which clustered round it, it 
 glimmered, not indeed with the same twinkling light, but in 
 a broader and more continuous mass, it seemed to belong to a 
 higher sphere, and one had difficulty in thought to fjx its 
 roots again in the earth. Ijcfore it we saw a hue of snowy 
 summits, sparkling as they rested on the 4-idges covered with 
 the black pines, while between the dark forests vast glaciers 
 sloped down to the valley below. 
 
 My descriptions begin to be irregular and forced ; in fact, 
 one wants two persons here, one to see and the other to 
 describe.
 
 198 I-ETTEKS FRON SWITZEKLAND. 
 
 Here we are in the middle village of the valley called " Lc 
 Prieui-e," comfortably lodged in a house, which a Avidow 
 caused to be built here in honour of the many strangers who 
 visited the neighbourhood. We are sitting close to the 
 hearth, relishing om* Muscatel wine from the Vallee d'Aost 
 far better than the lenten dishes which were served up fo 
 GUI' dinner. 
 
 Nov. 5, 1779. Eve7iing. 
 
 To take up one's pen and write, almost requires as grca* 
 an effort as to take a swim in the cold river. At this mo- 
 ment I have a great mind to put you off, by referring you t(^ 
 the description of the glaciers of Savoy, given by that enthu- 
 siastic climber Bourritt. 
 
 Invigorated however by a few glasses of excellent wine, 
 and by the thought that these pages will reach you much 
 sooner than either the travellers or Bo\irritt"s book, I wiU do 
 my best. The valley of Chamouni, in which we are at pre- 
 sent, lies very high among the mountains, and, from six to 
 seven leagues long, runs pretty nearly from south to north. 
 The characteristic features which to my mind distinguish it 
 from aU others, are its having scarcely any flat portion, but 
 the whole tract, like a trough, slopes from the Arve gradually 
 up the sides of the mountain. Mont Blanc and the line of 
 mountains which runs off from it, and the masses of ice wliich 
 fill up the immense ravines, make up the eastern wall of the 
 valley, on which, througliout its entire length, seven glaciers, 
 of which one is considerably larger than the others, run 
 down to the bottom of the valley. 
 
 The guides whom we liad engaged to show us to the ice-lake 
 came to their time. One v,'as a young active peasant, the 
 other much older, who seemed to think himself a very shrewd 
 personage, who had held intercoiuse with all learned fo- 
 reigners, well acquainted with the natm-e of the ice -moun- 
 tains, and a very clever fellow. He assured us that for 
 eight and twenty years, — so long had he acted as guide over 
 the mountains, — this was the first time that his services had 
 been put in requisition so late in the year — after AU Saints' 
 Day, and yet that we might even now see every object qidte 
 as well as in Jime. Provided with wine and food we began to
 
 THE ICE-I.AKE. 199 
 
 ascend Mont Anvert, from which we were told the view of 
 the ice-lake would be quite ravishing. Properly I should 
 call it the ice-valley or the ice-stream ; for looking at it from 
 above, the huge masses of ice force themselves out of a deep 
 valley in tolerable smoothness. Right behind it ends a 
 sharp-pointed mountaia, from both sides of which waves of 
 ice iim frozen into the principal stream. Not the slightest 
 trace (»f snow was as yet to be seen on the rugged surfaces, 
 ani the blue crevices glistened beautifully. The weather by 
 degrees became overcast, and I saw giey wavy clouds, which 
 seemed to threaten snow, more than it had ever yet done. 
 On the spot where we were standing is a small cabin, 
 built of stones, loosely piled together as a shelter for ti'avel- 
 lers, which in joke has been named " The Castle of Mont 
 Anvert." An Englishman, of the name of Blaire, Avho is 
 residing at Geneva, has caused a more spacious one to be built 
 at a more convenient spot, and a little higher up, where, 
 sitting by a hre-side, you catch through the window a view 
 of the whole Ice-Valley. The peaks of the rocks over against 
 you, as also in the valley below, are very pointed and rugged. 
 These jags are called needles, and the Aiguille du Dru is a 
 remarkable peak of this kind, right oj)posite to Mont Anvert. 
 We now wished to walk upon the Ice Lake itself, and to con- 
 sider these immense masses close at hand. Accordingly we 
 climbed down the mountain, and took nearly a hundred steps 
 roimd about on the wave-like ciystal cliffs. It is certainly 
 a singular sight, when standing on the ice itself, you sec 
 before you the masses pressing upwards, and divided by 
 strangely shaped clefts. However, we did not like standing 
 on this slippery surface, for we had neither come prepared 
 with ice-shoes, nor with nails in our usual ones ; on the con- 
 trary, those which we ordinarily wore had become smooth 
 and rounded with om- long walk ; we, therefore, made our 
 way back to the hut, and after a short rest were ready for 
 returntug. We descended the mountain, and came' to the 
 spot where the ice-stream, step by stepj^ forces its way to the 
 valley below, and we entered the cavern, into which it 
 empties its water. It is broad, deep, and of the most beau- 
 tiful blue, and in the cave the supply of water is more inva- 
 riable than further on at the mouth, since great pieces of 
 ice are constantly melting and dissolving in it.
 
 200 LETIEKS FROM S^WITZERLAND. 
 
 On our road to the Aubergc we passed the house where there 
 "were two Albmos, — children between twelve and fourteen, 
 ■with very white complexions, rough white hair, and with red 
 jind restless eyes like rabbits. The deep night which hangs 
 over the valley invites me to retire early to bed, and I am hardly 
 awake enough to tell you, that we have seen a tame young ibex, 
 who stands out as distinctly among the goats as the natural 
 son of a Jioble prince from the bva-gher"s family, among whom 
 he is privately brought up and educated. It does not suit 
 with oui- discourses, that I should speak of anything out of 
 its due order. Besides, you do not take much delight in 
 specimens of granite, quartz, or in larch and pine trees, 
 yet, most of all, you would desire to see some remarkable 
 fruits of our botanising. I think I am stupid with sleep, — 
 I cannot write another line. 
 
 Chamouni, Nov. 6, 1776. Early. 
 
 Content with seeing all that the early season allows us to 
 see, we are ready to start again, intending to penetrate as 
 far as Valais to-day. A thick mist covers the whole valley, 
 and reaches half A\ay up the mountains, and we must wait 
 and see what sun and wind wiU yet do for us. Our guide 
 purposes that we should take the road over the Col-de-Balme, 
 a lofty eminence, which lies on the north side of the A-alley 
 towards Valais, from the summit of which, if we are lucky, 
 we shall be able to take another survey of the valley of 
 Chamouni. and of ail its remarkable objects. 
 
 Whilst I am writing a remarkable phenomenon is passing- 
 along the sky. The mists which are shifting about, and break- 
 ing in some places, allow you through their openings as through 
 skylights, to catch a glance of the blue sky. Mobile at the same 
 time the mountain peaks, which rising above our roof of 
 vapour, arc illuminated by the sun's rays. Even without the 
 hope it gives of a beautiful day, this sight of itself is a rich 
 treat to the eye. 
 
 We have at last obtained a standard for judging the heights 
 of the mountains. It is at a -eonsiderable height above the 
 valley, that the vapour rests on the mountains. At a still 
 greater height are clouds, which have floated off upwards 
 from the top of the mist, and then far tibove these clouds- 
 3'ou sec the summits glittering in the sunshine.
 
 COI. DE BALME. 201 
 
 It is time to go. I must bid farewell to this beautiful 
 valley and to you. 
 
 Martlnac, in J^c/lais, 
 Nov. 6, 1779. Eveiiing. 
 
 We liavc made the passage across witliout any mishap, and 
 80 this adventure is over. The joy of our good luck will keep 
 my pen going men'ily for a good half hour yet. 
 
 Having packed our luggage on a mule, we set out early 
 (about 9.) from Prieure. The clouds shifted, so that the peaks 
 were now visible and then were lost again ; at one moment 
 the sun's rays came in streaks on the valley, at the next the 
 whole of it Avas again in shade. We went up the valley, 
 passing the outlet of the ice-stream, then the glacier 
 d'Argentiere, which is the highest of the five, the top of it 
 however was hidden from our view by the clouds. On the 
 ])lain Ave held a counsel, whether Ave should or not take the 
 route over Col de Balme, and abandon tlie road over Yalorsine. 
 The prospect AAas not the most promising : hoAvever. as here 
 there AA-as nothing to lose and much 2)erhaps t<i gain, avc 
 took oiu- Avay boldly towards X\\o dark region of mists and 
 clouds. As AV(> approached the filacier du Tour, the chuuls 
 parted, and Ave saAV this glacier also in full light. We sat 
 down awhile and drank a flask of Avine. and took sometliing 
 to eat. We now moinitcd towards the sources of the ArAe. 
 passing over rugged meadoAvs and })atchcs scantily covered 
 Avith turf, and came nearer and nearer to the region of mists. 
 Tintil at last Ave entered right into it. We Avent on patiently 
 for aAAd.ile till at last as avo got up higher, it began again to 
 clear above our heads. It lasted for a short time, so avc passed 
 right out of the clouds, and saAv the Avhole mass of them 
 beneath us s])read over the A'alley, and Avere able to see the 
 summits of all the mountains on the right and kit th;it en- 
 closed it, Avith the exception of ISIont Elanc, Avhich Avas 
 covered Avith clouds. We Averc able to- point them out one 
 by one, and to name them. In some Ave saw the glaciers 
 reaching from their summits to their feet, in others Ave coidd 
 oidy discern their tracks, as the ice Avas concealed from 
 our vicAV by the rocky sides of the gorges. Beyojul the 
 ■whole of the flat surface of the clouds, except at its southern
 
 202 XETTEKS FKOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 extremity, we could distinctly see the mountains glittering in 
 the sunshine. Why should I enumerate to you the names of 
 summits, peaks, needles, icy and snowy masses, when their 
 mere designations can furnish no idea to your mind, either of 
 the whole scene or of its single objects? 
 
 It was qiute singular how the spirits of the air seemed to 
 be waging war beneath us. Scarcely had we stood a few- 
 minutes enjoying the grand view, when a hostile ferment 
 seemed to arise within the mist, and it suddenly rose upwards 
 and threatened once more to envelope us. We commenced 
 stoutly ascending the height, in the hope of yet awhile escap- 
 ing from it, but it outstripped us and enclosed us on all 
 sides. However, perfectly fresh, we continued to moiuit, 
 ^nd soon there came to our aid a strong wind, blowing from 
 the mountain. Blowing over tlie saddle which connected 
 two peaks, it drove the mist back again into the valley. 
 This strange conflict was fi-equently repeated, and at last, to 
 our joy, we reached the Col de Ealme. The view from it 
 was singular, indeed unique. The sky above the peaks was 
 overcast with clouds ; below, through the many openings in 
 the mist, we saw the whole of Chamoimi, and between these 
 two layers of cloud the mountain summits were all visible. 
 On the east we were shut in by rugged mountains, on the 
 west we looked down on wild valleys, where, however, on 
 every green patch human dwellings were visible. Before us 
 lay the valley of Valais, where at one glance the eye took in 
 mountains piled in every variety of mass one upon another, and 
 stretching as for as IMartinac and even beyond it. Surrounded 
 on all sides by moinitains which, further on towards the 
 horizon, seemed continually to multiply and to tower higher 
 and higher, we stood on the confines of Valais and Savoy. 
 
 Some contrabandists, who were ascending the mountains 
 vnih. their mules, were alarmed at seeing us, for at this 
 season tliey did not reckon ori meeting with any one at this 
 spot. They fired a shot to intimate that they were armed, 
 and one adA-aneed before the rest to reconnoitre. Having 
 recognised om- guide and seen what a harmless figure we 
 made, he returned to his party, who uov; approached us, and 
 we passed one another with nnitual greetings. 
 
 The wind now blew sharp, and it began to snow a little as 
 we commenced our descent, which v.-as rough and wild
 
 VALAIS. 203 
 
 enough, through an ancient forest of pines, which had taken 
 root on the faces of the gneiss. Torn up by the winds, the 
 trunks and roots lay rotting together, and the rocks which 
 were loosened at the same time were lying in rough masses 
 among them. 
 
 At last Ave reached the valley where the river Trent takes 
 its rise from a glacier, and passing the village of Trent, close 
 upon our right, we followed the windings of the valley along 
 a rather inconvenient road, and about six reached Martinac, 
 which lies in the flatter portion of the Valais. Here we 
 must refresh oui-selvcs for further expeditions. 
 
 Martinac, Nov. G, 1779. 
 Evenijig. 
 
 Just as our travels proceed uninteriiiptedly, so my letters 
 one after another keep up my conversation with you. Scarcely 
 have I folded and put aside the conclusion of " Wanderings 
 through Savoy," ere I take up another sheet of paper in 
 order to acquaint you with all that we have further in con- 
 templation. 
 
 It was night when we entered a region about which our 
 curiosity had long been excited. As yet we have seen no tiling 
 but the peaks of the mountains, which enclose the valley on 
 both sides, and then only in the glimmering of twilight. 
 We crept wearily into our aubcrge, and saw fiom the window 
 the clouds shifting. We felt as glad and comfortable to 
 have a roof over oiu- lieads, as chikken do when with stools, 
 table-leaves and carpets, they construct a roof near the stove, 
 and therein say to one another that outside " it is raining or 
 snowing," in order to excite a pleasant and imaginary shud- 
 der in their little souls. It is exactly so with us on this 
 autiunnal evening in this strange and unknown region. 
 
 We learn from the maps that we are sitting in the angle of 
 an elbow, from which the smaller part of "\'alais, running 
 almost directly from south to north, _and with the Rhone, 
 extends to the lake of Geneva, while the other and the larger 
 portion stretches from west to east, and goes up the Ilhone 
 to its som-ce, the Furca. The prospect of riding through 
 ■ the Valais is very agreeable, om- only anxiety is how we 
 iU-e to cross over into it. First of all, with the view of
 
 204 LETTERS FKOjM SWITZERLAND, 
 
 seeing the lower portion, it is settled that wc go to-morrow 
 to S. Maurice, where we are to meet our friend, Avho 
 with the horses has gone round by the Pays de Vaud. To- 
 morrow evening we think of being here again, and then on 
 the next day shall begin to go up the country. If the 
 advice of M. de Saussure prevails, we shall perform the route 
 to the Furca on horseback, and then back to Brieg over the- 
 Simplon, where, in any weather, the travelling is good over 
 Domo d'Osula, Lago Maggiore, Bellinzona, and then uj) 
 Mount Gotthard. The road is said to be excellent, and every- 
 where passable for horses. We should best prefer going over 
 the Furca to S. Gotthard, both for the sake of the shorter 
 route, and also because this detour tlu-ough the Italian pro- 
 vinces was not Avithin our original plan, but then what could 
 we do with oiu- horses ; they covUd not be made to descend 
 the Furca. for in all probability the path for pedestrians is 
 ab-eady blocked up by the snow. 
 
 With regard to the latter contingency, however, we arc- 
 quite at our ease, and hope to be able, as we have hitherto 
 done, to take counsel, from moment to moment, with cir- 
 cumstances as they arise. 
 
 The most remarkable object in this inn is a servant-girl, 
 who Avith the greatest stupidity gives herself all the airs of 
 one of our would-be delicate German ladies. We had a good 
 laugh, when after bathing our weary feet in a bath of red 
 ■wine and clay, as recommended by our guide, we had in the 
 affected hoyden to wipe them dry. 
 
 Our meal has not refj'cshed us much, and after supper we 
 hope to enjoy our beds more. 
 
 S. Maurice, Nov. 7, 1779. 
 Nearly Noon. 
 
 On the road it is my way to enjoy the beautiful views, in 
 order that I may call in one by one my absent friends, and 
 converse with them on the subject of the glorious objects. 
 If I come into an inn it is in order to rest myself, to go back 
 in memory and to write something to you, Avhen many a time 
 my overstrained faculties would much rather collapse upon 
 themselves, and recover their tone in a sort of half sleep. 
 
 This morning we set off at dawn from Maniuac ; a fresh
 
 THE "WATEFtFALL OF PISSE TACHE. 205 
 
 breeze was stirriiig^vith the day, and we soon passed the old 
 castle which stands at the point where the two arms of Valais 
 make a sort of Y. The valley is narrow, shut in on its 
 two sides by mountains, highly diversified in their forms, and 
 which without exception are of a peculiar and sublimely 
 beautiful character. We came to the spot where the Trent 
 breaks into the valley around some narrow and perpendicular 
 rocks, so that one almost doubts whether the river does not 
 flow out of the solid rock itself. Close by stands the old 
 bridge, which only last year was greatly injured by the 
 stream, while not far from it lie immense masses of rock, 
 Avhieh have fallen very recently from the mountains and 
 blocked up the road. The whoL- group together would make 
 tin extremely beautiful picture. At a short distance from the 
 old bridge a new wooden one has been built, and a new road 
 bi^en laid down to it. 
 
 We were told that we were getting near the famous water- 
 fall of Pisse Vache, and wished heartily for a peep at the 
 sun. while the shifting clouds gave us a good hope that our 
 wish would be gratified. On the road we examined various 
 ])ieces of granite and of gneiss, which with all their differ- 
 tmcos seem, nevertheless, to have a common origin. At last 
 we stood before the waterlall. which well deserves its fame 
 above all others. At a considerable height a strong stream 
 bursts from a cleft in the rock, falling downward into a basin, 
 over which the foam and spray is carried far and wide by 
 the wind. The sun at this moment came forth from tlie 
 clouds, and made the sight doubly vivid. Below in the spray, 
 Avherever you go, you have close before you a rainbow. If 
 you go higher up, j-ou still witness no less singular a pheno- 
 menon. The airy foaming waves of the upper stream of 
 water, as with their frothy vapom-, they come in contact with 
 the angle of vision at which the rainbow is formed, assume 
 a flame-like hue, without giving rise to the pendant fonn of 
 the bow, so that at this point you have before you a con- 
 stantly varying play of fire. 
 
 We climbed all round, and sitting down near it, wished 
 we were able to spend whole davs and many a good hour of 
 om* life on this spot. Here too, as in so many other places 
 during our present tour, we felt how impossible is was to
 
 206 liETTERS FKOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 enjoy and to be fully impressed with grai^l objects on a pass- 
 ing visit. 
 
 Wc next came to a village where there were some merry 
 soldiers, and we drank there some new wine. Some of the 
 same sort bad been set before us yesterday. It looked like 
 soap and water ; however, Ave liad rather drink it than their 
 sour " this year's"' and " two years' old"' wine. When one 
 is thirsty nothing comes amiss. 
 
 We saw S. Maurice at a distance ; it lies just at the 
 point where the valley closes in, so much as to cease to be 
 anything more than a mere pass. Over the city, on the left, 
 ■we saw a small church with a hermitage close to it. and we 
 hope to have an opportunity yet of visiting them both. 
 
 We found in the inn a note fi-om our friend, who has 
 stopped at Bee, which is about three quarters of a league 
 from this place ; wc have sent a messenger to him. The 
 Count is gone out for a walk to see the country before us. I 
 shall take a morsel to eat, and then set out towards the 
 famous bridge and the pass. 
 
 After 1 o'clock. 
 
 I have at last got back from the spot where one could be 
 contented to spend whole days together, lounging and loiter- 
 ing about without once getting tiied. holding converse with 
 oneself 
 
 If I had to advise any one as to the best route into "V^alais, 
 I should recommend the one from the Lake of Geneva up the 
 Hhone. I have been on the road to Bee over the great bridge, 
 from which you step at once into the Bernese territority. 
 Here the Rhone flows downwards, and the valley near the 
 lake becomes a little bro;ider. As I turned round again I 
 saw that the rocks near S. Mam-ice j^ressed together from 
 both sides, and that a small light bridge, with a high arch, 
 "was thrown boldly across from them over the Rhone, which 
 rushes beneath it with its roaring and foaming stream. The 
 numerous angles and turrets of a fortress stands close to the 
 bridge, and a single gateway commands the entrance into 
 Valais. I went over the bridge back towards S. Mam-ice, 
 and even beyond it, in search of a view which I had formerly 
 seen a drawii.g of at Huber's house, and by good luck found it.
 
 FEOM MARTINAC TO SIGN". 207 
 
 The count is come back. He had goue to meet the horses 
 and mounting his grey had outstripped the rest. He says the 
 bridge is so light and beautiful that it loolcs like a horse iu the 
 act of leaping a ditch. Oiu* friend too is coming, and is quite 
 contented with his tour. He accomplished the distance from 
 the Lake of Geneva to Bee in a few days, and we are all de- 
 lighted to see one another again. 
 
 Martinac. toicards 9. 
 We were out riding till late at night, and the road seemed 
 much longer returning than going, as in the morning, our atten- 
 tion had been constantly attracted from one object to another. 
 Besides I am for this day, at least, heartily tired of descrip- 
 tions and reflections; however, I must try hastily to per- 
 petuate the memory of two bc^autiful objects. It was deep 
 twilight when on our return v/e reached the waterfall of the 
 Pissc Vache. The mountains, the valley, and the heavens 
 themselves were dark and dusky. ]3y its greyish tint and 
 imccasing mm-mur you could distinguish the falling stream 
 from all other objects, though you could scarcely discern the 
 slightest motion. Suddenly the summit of a very high peak 
 glowed just like molten brass iu a furnace, and above it rose 
 a red smoke. This singular phenomenon was the effect of 
 the setting sun which illuminated the snow and the mists 
 which ascended from it. 
 
 S'lon, Nov. 8, 1779. 
 about o o'clock. 
 This morning we missed oxtr way riding, and were delayed 
 in consequence, three hours at least. We set out from 
 Martinac before dawn, in order to reach Sion in good time. 
 The weather was extraordinarily beautiful, only that the sun 
 being low in the heavens was shut out by the mountains, so 
 that the road, as we passed along, was entirely in the shade. 
 The view, however, of the marvellously beautiful valley of 
 Valais brought up many a good and chc^erful idea. We had 
 ridden for full three hours along the high road with the 
 Rhone on our left, when we saw Sion before us ; and wc were 
 beginning to congratulate oiu'sclves on the prospect of sooa
 
 '208 LKXTEKS FROM SWITZERLANU. 
 
 ordering our noon-day's meal, when we found that the bridge 
 we ought to cross had been carried away. Nothing remained 
 for us, we were told by the people who were busy repairing 
 it, but either to leave om- horses and go by a foot-path which 
 ran across the rocks, or else to ride on for about three miles, 
 and then cross the Rhone by some other ])ridges. We chose 
 the latter; ujid we would not suffer any ill humour to get 
 ])ossession of us, but determined to ascribe this mischance to 
 the interposition of our good genius, who intended to take us 
 u slow ride through this interesting region with the advantage 
 of good day-light. Everywhere, indeed, in this narrow 
 district, the Rhone makes sad havoc. In order to reach the 
 other bridges we were obliged, for more than a league and a 
 half, to ride over sandy patches, which in the various inunda- 
 tions are constantly shifting, and are useful for nothing but 
 alder and willow beds. At last we came to the bridges, 
 Avhich were ^^Tetehed, tottering, long, and composed of rotten 
 timbers. We had to lead our horses over one by one, and 
 Avith extreme caution. We M'ere now on the left side of the 
 Valais and had to turn backwards to get to Sion. The road 
 itself was for the most part wretched and stony; every step, 
 liowever, opened a fresh view. •\vJiieh was well worth a 
 ])ainting. ()ne, however, was jjarticularly remurkable. The 
 road brought us up to a castle. b( low which there was spread 
 rrnt the most lovely scene that v»-e had seen in the whole road. 
 The mountains nearest to us run do^vn on botli sides slantingly 
 to the level ground, and by their shape gavc> a kind of per- 
 spective effect to the natural landscape. Beneath us was the 
 Valais in its entire breadth from mountain to mountain, so 
 that the eye could easily take it in ; the Rhone, M'ith its ever- 
 varying windings and liushy banks M-as flov/ing past villages, 
 meadows, and richly cultivated highlands ; in the distance you 
 saw the Castle of Sion, and the various hills which begin to 
 rise behind it; the farthest horizon was shut in, amphitheatre 
 like,Mith a semicircular range of snow-capped mountains which, 
 like all the rest of the scene, stood glittei-ing in the sun"s 
 meridian splendour. Disagi-eeable and rough was the road 
 we had to ride over; we therefore enjoyed the more, perhaps, 
 the still tolerably green festoons of the A-ines which over-arched 
 it. The inhabitants, to whom every spot of earth is precious, 
 plant their grape-\ ines close against liie walls which divide
 
 SrO-V SEYTEKS. 209 
 
 tlioir little holdings from tlic road, -whei-e they grow to an 
 extraordinary thickness, and by means of stakes and trellises 
 are trained across the road so as almost to form one con- 
 tinuous arbour. The lower grounds were principally mea- 
 dows: in the neighbourhood of Sion, however, we noticed 
 some tillage. Towards this town the scenery is extremel3- 
 diversified by a variety of hills, and we wished to be able to 
 make a longer stay in order to enjoy it. But the hideousncss 
 of the town and of the people fearfully disturb the pleasant 
 impression which the scenery leaves. The most frightful 
 goitres put me altogether out of humour. We cannot well 
 put our horses any further to-day, and therefore we think of 
 going on foot to Seyters. Here in Sion the inn is disgusting, 
 and the whole town has a dirty and revolting appearance. 
 
 Seijfers, Nov. 8, 1779. 
 Niffhl. 
 
 As evening had begun to fall before we set out from Sion, 
 we reached here at night, with the sky above us clear and 
 starry. We have consequently lost many a good view — that 
 I know well. Particularly we shoidd have liked to have 
 ascended to the Castle of Tourbillon, which is at no great 
 distance from Sion; the view from it must be uncommonly 
 beautiful. A guide whom we took with us skilfully guided 
 us through some A\Tetched low lands, where the water was 
 out. We soon reached the heights, and had the Rhone below 
 us on our right. By talking over some astronomical matters 
 we shortened our road, and have taken up our abode here 
 with some very worthy people, who are doing their best to 
 entertain us. Wlien we think over Avhat we have gone 
 through, so busy a day, with its many incidents and sights, 
 seems almost equal to a whole week. I begin to be quite 
 son-y that I have neither time nor talent to sketch at least 
 the outlines of the most remarkable objects ; for that woidd 
 be much better for the absent than all descriptions. 
 
 Seyters, Nov. 9, 1779. 
 Before we set out I can just bid you good morning. The 
 Count is going with me to the moimtains on the left, towards 
 Vol. K. p
 
 210 LETTERS FilOM SWlTZEliLAND. 
 
 Leukerfcad; our friend will, in the meantime, stay here with 
 the horses, and join us to-morrow at Lcuk. 
 
 Leiikerbad, Nov. 9, 1779. 
 At the Foot of Mount Gemmi. 
 
 In a little wooden house where we have been frieudlily 
 received by some veiy worthy people, we are sitting in a 
 small, low room, and trying how much of to-day's highly 
 interesting toui* c:in be communicated in words. Starting 
 from Seyters very early we proeocded for three leagues up the 
 mountains, after having passed large districts laid waste by 
 the mountain torrents. One of these streams will suddenly 
 rise and desolate an extent of many miles, covering with 
 fragments of rock and gravel the fields, meadows, and gardens, 
 which (at least wherever possible) the people laboriously set 
 to work to clear, in order within tvt^o generations, perhaps, to 
 be again laid waste. We have had a grey day, with every 
 now and then a glimpse of sunshine. It is impossible to 
 describe how infinitely variegated the Valais here again 
 becomes ; the landscape bends and changes every moment. 
 Looking around you all the objects seem to lie close together, 
 and yet they are separated by great ravines and hills. Gene- 
 rally "vve had had the open part of the vaUey below us, on the 
 viglit, when suddenly v\'e came upon a spot which commanded 
 a most beautiful view over the mountains. 
 
 In order to render more clear what it is I am attempting to 
 describe, I must say a few words on the geographical position 
 of the district in which we are at present. We had now for 
 three hours been ascending the moimtainous region wiiich 
 separates Valais from Benie. This is, in fact, the great track 
 of mountains which runs in one continuous chain from the 
 Lake of Geneva to Mount S. Gothard, and on which, as it 
 passes through Berne, rest the great masses of ice and snow. 
 Here above and below are but the relative terms of the moment. 
 I say. for instance, beneath me lies a village — and in all pro- 
 bability the level on which it is built is on a precipitous 
 summit, which is far higher above the valley below, than I am 
 above it. 
 
 As we turned an angle of the road and rested awhile at a 
 hermitage, we saw beneath us, at the end of a lovely green
 
 I5JDEN THE GEMMI. 211 
 
 nieadowland, which stretched along the brink of an enor- 
 mous chasm, the village of Inden, with its white church 
 exactly in the middle of the landscape, and built altogether 
 on the slope of the hill-side. Beyond the chasm another line 
 of meadow lands and pine forests went upwards, while right 
 behind the village a vast cleft in the rocks ran up the svmi- 
 mit. On the left hand the mountains came right down to 
 us, while those on our right stretched far away into the 
 distance, so that the little hamlet, with its white chm-ch, 
 formed as it were the focus towai'ds which the many rocks, 
 ravines, and mountains all converged. The road to Inden is 
 cut out of the precipitous side of the rock, which, on your 
 left going to the village, lines the amphitheatre. It is not 
 dangerous although it looks frightful enough. It goes do^vn 
 on the slope of a rugged mass of rocks, separated from the 
 yawning abyss on the right, by nothing but a few poor 
 planks. A peasant with a mule, who was descending at the 
 same time as ourselves, whenever ho came to any dangerous 
 points caught his beast by the tail, lest the steep descent 
 should cause him to slip, and roll into the rocks below. At 
 last we reached Inden. As our guide w:is well known there, he 
 easily managed to obtain for us, from a good-natured dame, 
 some bread and a glass of red wine, for in these parts there 
 are no regular inns. 
 
 We now ascended the high ravine behind Inden, where we 
 .soon saw before us the Gemmiberg (of which vvc had her>.rd 
 such frightful descriptions), with Leukerbad at its foot, lying 
 between two lofty, inaccessible, snow-covered mountains, as 
 if it were in the hollow of a hand. It was three o'clock, 
 nearly, when we arrived there, and our guide soon procm-ed 
 us lodgings. There is properly no inn even here, but in con- 
 sequence of the many visitors to the baths at this place, all 
 people have good accommodations. Our hostess had been 
 put to bed the day bel'ore, but her husband v.ith an old 
 mother and a servant girl, did very creditably the honours of 
 tlie house. We ordered something to eat, and went to see 
 the warm springs, which in several places burst out of the 
 .earth with great force, and are received in veiy clean 
 reservoirs. Out of the village, and more towards the moun- 
 tains, thoro are said to be still stronger ones. The water has 
 act the slightest smell of sulphur, and neither at its source 
 
 P 2
 
 212 LETTERS rCOM SWITZEKLANl^. 
 
 nor in Its channel docs it make the least deposit of ochre or 
 of any other earth or mineral, but like any other clear spring 
 water it leaves not the slightest trace behind it. As it comes- 
 out of the earth it is extremely hot, and is famous for its good 
 qualities. We had still time for a walk to the foot of the 
 Gemmi, which appeared to us to be at no great distance. I 
 must here repeat a remark that has been made so often 
 already; that when one is surroimded with mountain scenery 
 all objects appear to be extremely near. We had a good 
 league to go, amongst fragments of rock which had fallen from 
 the heights, and over gravel brought doAvn by the torrents, 
 before we reached the foot of the Gemmi, where the road 
 ascends along the precipitous crags. This is the only pass 
 into the canton of Berne, and the sick have to be transported 
 along it in sedan chairs. 
 
 If the season did not bid us hasten onwards, in all prob;;- 
 bility we might make an attempt to-morrow to ascend this 
 remarkable mountain; as it is, however, we must content 
 ourselves with the simple view of it. On our return we saw 
 the clouds brewing, which in these parts is a highly interesting 
 sight. The fine weather we have hitherto enjoyed has made 
 lis forget almost entirely that it is in November that we are ; 
 besides too, as they foretold us in Berne, the autumn here is 
 Acry delightful. The short days, however, and the clouds 
 which threaten snow, warn us how late it is in the year. The 
 strange drift which has been agitatmg them this e^-ening was 
 .singularly beautifid. As we came back from the foot of the 
 Gemmi, we saw light mists come up the ravine from Inden, 
 and move with great rapidity. They continually changed 
 their direction, going now forwards, now backwards, and at 
 last, as they ascended, they came so near to Leukerbad tnat 
 we saw clearly that we must double our steps if Ave Avould not 
 before nightfall be enveloped in the clouds. We reached our 
 quarters, however, Avithout accident, and whilst I write this it 
 is snowing in earnest. This is the first fall of snow that Ave 
 have yet had, and Avhen Ave call to mind om- warm ride 
 yesterday, from Martinach to Sion, beneath the vine-arbours, 
 which were still prettj- thiclv Avith leaves, the change does . 
 appear sudden indeed. I have been standing some time at 
 the door, observing the character and look of the clouds, 
 which ai-e beautiful beyond description. It is not yet night.
 
 LEUKERBAD. 213 
 
 'but at intervals the clouds veil the vi^hole sky and make it 
 quite dark. They rise out of the deep ravines until they reach 
 the highest summits of the mountains ; attracted by these thcv 
 appear to thicken, and being condensed by the cold they fall 
 down in the shape of sno\v. It gives you an inexpressible 
 feeling of loneliness to find yourself here at this height, as it 
 were, in a sort of well, fi'om which you scarcely can suppose 
 that there is even a footpath to get out by, except do-vvn the 
 ])recipice before you. The clouds vrhich gather here in this 
 valley, at one time completely hiding th.e immense rocks, 
 and absorbing them in a waste impenetrable glooni, or at ano- 
 ther letting a part of them be seen like huge spectres, give to 
 tlie people a cast of melancholy. In the midst of such 
 natural phenomena the people are full of presentiments and 
 forebodings. Clouds — a phenomenon remarkable to every 
 Juan i'rom his youth up — are, in the plain countries, generallj' 
 looked upon at most as something foreign — something super- 
 tcHTestrial. People regard them as sti-angers, as birds of 
 j)assage, which, hatched under a dift'erent climate, visit this 
 or that country for a moment or two in passing — as sjilcndid 
 pieces of ta]>estry wherewith the gods pail off their pomp and 
 splendour from human eyes. But here, where th(;y are 
 hatched, man is inclosed in them from the very first, and the 
 <'ternal and intrinsic energy of his nature feels itself at everj'' 
 nerve moved to forebode and to indulge in presentiments. 
 
 To the clouds, which, M'ith us even produce these efiects, 
 "wc pay little attention; moreover as they arc not pushed so 
 thickly and directly before our eyes, their ecoiuimy is the 
 -more difficult to observe. With regard to all such plienomena 
 one's only wish is to dwell on them for a Avhile, and to Ix^ 
 a])le to tarry several days in the sjiots where they are observ- 
 able. If one is fond of sucii observations the desire becomes 
 the more vivid tlic more one reflects that every season of the 
 year, every hour of the day. and eveiy cliange of weather 
 produces new phenomena which we little looked for. -.Vnd as 
 no man, not oven the most ordinary character, was ever a 
 ■witness, even for once, of great and unusual events, without 
 their leaving behind in his soul some traces or other, and 
 making him feel himself also to be greater for this one little 
 sln-ed of grandeur, so that he is never v/eary of telling the 
 whole talc of it over again, and has gained at any rate a little
 
 21-4 LETTKKS FEOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 treasure for bis whole life ; just so is it with the man who has 
 seen and become familiar with the grand phenomena of nature. 
 He who manages to presei-ve these impressions, and to combine 
 them with other thoughts and emotions, has assuredly a trea- 
 sury of sweets wherewith to season the most tasteless parts of 
 life, and to give a pervading relish to the whole of existence. 
 
 I observe that in my notes I make very little mention of 
 human beings. Amid these grand objects of nature, they are 
 but little worthy of notice, especially where they do but come 
 and go. I doubt not but that on a longet stay we should 
 meet with many worthy and interesting people. One fact I 
 think I have everywhere observed; the farther one moves 
 from the highroad and the busy marts of men, the more 
 people are shut in by the mountains, isolated and confined to 
 the simplest wants of life, the more they draw their main- 
 tenance from simple, humble, and vmchangeable pursuits : so 
 much the better, the more obliging, the more friendly, unsel- 
 fish, and hospitable are they. 
 
 Leukerbad, Nov. 10, 1779. 
 We are getting ready by candle-light, in order to descend 
 the mountain again as soon as day bi-eaks. I haA'e had 
 rather a restless night. Scarcely had I got into bed before I 
 felt as if I was attacked all over with the nettle rash. I soon 
 found, however, that it was a swarm of crawling insects, who, 
 ravenous of blood, had fallen upon the new comer. These 
 insects breed in great numbers in these wooden houses. The 
 night appeared to me extremely long, and I was heartily glad 
 M'hcn in the morning a light was brought in. 
 
 Leuk., about 10 o'clock. 
 We have not much time to spare ; however, before we set 
 out. I will give you an account of the remarkable breaking up 
 of om- company, which has here taken place, and also of the 
 cause of it. We set out from Leukerbad with daybreak this 
 morning, and had to make our way over the meadows thiough 
 the fresh and slippery snow. We soon came to luden, where, 
 leaving above us on our right the precipitous road wl-ich we 
 came dovrn yesterday, vrc descended to the meadow landa
 
 LEUK. 'TIS 
 
 along the ravine which now lay on our left. It is extremely 
 vnld and overgrown with trees, but a very tolerable road runs 
 down into it. Through the clefts in the rock the water whieh 
 comes down from Leukerbad has its outlets into the Valais. 
 High up on the side of the hill, which yesterday we descended, 
 we saw an aqueduct skilfully cut out of the rock, by which a 
 little stream is conducted from the mountain, then through a 
 hollow into a neighbouring village. 
 
 Next we had to ascend a steep height, from which we soon 
 saw the open countrj' of Valais, with the dirty town of Valais 
 lying beneath us. These little towns are mostly stuck on the 
 hill sides ; the roofs inelegantly covered with coarsely split 
 planks, which within a year become black and overgrown with 
 moss; and when you enter them, you are at once disgusted, 
 for everything is dirty ; want and hardship are everywhere 
 ajiparent among these highly pri^■ileged and free burghers. 
 
 We found here our friend, who brought the unfavourable 
 report that it was beginning to bo injudicious to proceed 
 further with the horses. The stables were everywhere small 
 and nan-ow, being built only for mules or sumpter horses ; 
 oats too were rarely to be procured ; indeed he was told that 
 higher up among the mountains there were none to be had. 
 Accordingly a comicil was held. Our friend with the horses 
 was to descend the Valais and go by Bee, Bevay, Lausanne, 
 Freiburg, and Berne, to Lucerne, while the Comit and I 
 pursued our course up the Valais, and endeavoxu-ed to pene- 
 trate to Moimt Gotthard, and then through the Canton of 
 Uri, and by the lake of the Forest Towns, likewise make for 
 Lucerne. In these parts you may anywhere procure mules, 
 which are better suited to these roads than horses, and to go 
 on foot invariably proves the most agreeable in t'le end. Om- 
 friend is gone, and om* portmanteaus packed on the back of 
 a miile, and so we are now ready to set off and make our 
 way on foot to Brieg. The sky has a motley appearance, 
 stdl I hope that the good luck which has hitherto attended 
 us, and attracted us to this distant spot, will not abandon us 
 at the very point where we have the mo§t need of it.
 
 216 XETTERS FROM STTITZEFIiA.ND. 
 
 Brieg, Nov. 10, 1779. 
 Evening. 
 
 Of to-day's expedition I have little to teU you, unless you 
 would like to be entertained with a long cii-cumstantial account 
 of the weather. About 11 o'clock we set off from Leuk., in 
 company with a Suabian butcher's boy, who had run away 
 hither, and had found a pUxcc where he served somewhat in 
 the capacity of Hanswurst (Jack-Pudding), and -with our 
 luggage packed on the back of a nmlc, which its master was 
 driving before him. Beliind us, as far as the eye covdd reach, 
 thick snow clouds, which came driving up the lowlands, 
 covered everything. It had really a threatening aspect. With- 
 out expressing my fears I felt anxious lest, even though right 
 before us it looked as clear as it could do in the land of 
 Goshen, the clouds might nevertheless overtake us, and here, 
 perhaps in the territory of the Yalais, shut in on both sides 
 by mountains, we might be covered with the clouds, and in 
 one night snowed up. Thus whispered alarm which got 
 possess'ion almost entirely of one car; at the other good 
 courage was speaking in a confident tone, and reproving me 
 for want of laith, kept reminding me of the past, and called 
 my attention to the phenomena of the atmosphere before 
 us. Our road went continually on towards the fine weather. 
 Up the Ivhone all was clear, and as a strong west wind kept 
 driving the clouds behind us, it was little likely that they 
 would n^ach us. 
 
 The following was the cause of this. Into the valley of 
 \'alais there are, as I have so often remarked already, many 
 ravines running down from the neighbouring mountain- 
 chains, whicli fiiU into it like little brooks into a great stream, 
 as indeed all their waters flow off into the Rhone. Out of 
 each of these openings rushes a cm-rent of wind, which has 
 been forming in the inner valleys and nooks of the rocks. 
 "When now the principal drift of the clouds up the valley 
 reaches one of these ravines, the current of the wind does 
 not allow the clouds to pass, but contends \di\\ them, and 
 with the wind which is driving them, and thus detains them, 
 and disputes with them for whole; hours the passage up the 
 valley. This conflict Ave often witnessed, and when Ave be- 
 licA-ed Ave should surely be overtaken by the clouds, an ob- 
 stacle of tl'.is kind Avoiild again arise, and after Ave had gone
 
 BKIEG. 217 
 
 a good league, wc found they had scarcely stirred from the 
 spot. 
 
 Toward- evening the sky was uncommonly beautiful. As 
 we arrived at Brieg, the clouds got there ahnost as soon as 
 we did ; however, as the sun had set, and a driving oast 
 Avind blew against them, they were obliged to come to a 
 halt, and formed a huge crescent from mountain to moim- 
 tain across the valley. The cold air had greatly condensed 
 them, and where their edge stood out against the blue sky, it 
 presented to the eye many beautiful, light, and elegant fonns. 
 it was quite clear that they were heavy with snow ; however, 
 the fresh air seemed to us to promise that much would not 
 Jail during the night. 
 
 Here we arc in a vcr)' comfortable inn, and wliat greath' 
 lends to make us contented, we have found a I'oomy chamber 
 ^\k\\ a stove in it, so that we can sit by the fire-side and take 
 counsel together as to our futm-e travels. Tlnough Brieg 
 runs the usual road to Italy over the Simplon ; shoidd we, 
 tlierefore, give up our plan of going over the l*'urca to Mont 
 8. Gothard, we shall go with hired horses and mules to Domo 
 d"Ossula, Margozro, pass up Lago Maggiore, and then to 
 Bellinzona, and tlien on to S. (iottliard, and over Airolo to 
 the monastery of the Capuchins. 'I'his road is passable all 
 the winter through, and is good tra\elling for horses ; how- 
 ever, to our minds it is not very inviting, especially as it 
 was not in our original plan, and will not bring us to Lucenie 
 till five days after our friend. We wish rather to see the 
 Avholc of the Valais up to its extreme limit, whither we hope 
 to come by to-morrow evening, and, if fortune f;ivoiu-s, we 
 shall be sitting by about the same time next day in Realjj, in 
 the canton of Uri, which is on ^lont Gotthard, and very 
 near to ils highest summit. If we then find it impossible to 
 cross the Furca, the road back to this spot will still be open 
 to us, and then we can take of necessity the route which of 
 fi'ce choice we arc; disinclined to. 
 
 You can well believe that I have herc,closely cxamuied the 
 people, w^hether they believe that the passage^ over the Fmca 
 is open, for that is the one idea with which I rise up, and lie 
 down to sleep, and occujiy myself all day long. Hitherto 
 our route may be compared to a march to meet an enemy, 
 and now it is as if we were ajiproaching to the spot where
 
 218 LETIEIIS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 he has entvenched liimsclf, and we must give him battle. 
 Besides om- mule two horses are ordered to be ready by the 
 evening. 
 
 Ilvnster, Mov. 11, 1779. 
 Evening, 6 o'clock. 
 
 Again we have had a pleasant and prosperous day. This 
 morning as we set out early and in good time from Brieg^ 
 our host, when we were already on the road said, " If the 
 mountain (so they call the Furca here,) should prove too 
 fearful, you can easily come back and take another route." 
 With our two horses and mule we soon came upon some 
 pleasant meadows, where the valley becomes so narrow that 
 it is scarcely some gun-shots wide. Here are some beautiful 
 pasture lands, on which stand large trees, while pieces of 
 rock lie scattered about which have rolled down from the 
 neighbouring mountains. The valley gradually grows nar- 
 rower, and the traveller is forced to ascend along the side of 
 the mountain, having the while the Rhone below him in a 
 rugged ravine on his left. Above him, however, the land is 
 beautifully spread out; on the variously undulating hills are 
 verdant and rich meadows and pretty hamlets, which, with 
 their dark-brown wooden houses, peep out prettily from 
 among the snov,^ We travelled a good deal on foot, and we 
 did so in turns to accommodate one another. For although 
 riding is safe enough, still it excites one's alarm to see 
 another riding before you along so narrow a track, and on so 
 weak an animal, and just on the brink of so rugged a preci- 
 pice ; and as too there are no cattle to be seen on the mea- 
 dows, (for the people here shut them all up in sheds at this 
 season,) such a region looks lonely, and the thought that 
 one is continually being hemmed in closer and closer by the 
 vast mountains, fills the imagination with sombre and disa- 
 greeable fancies, enough to make you fall from your seat, 
 if you are not very firm m the saddle. Man is never perfectly 
 master of himself. As he lives in utter ignorance of the 
 future, as indeed what the next moment may bring forth is 
 hidden from him, consequently, when anything unusual falls 
 beneath his notice, he has often to contend with involuntary 
 sensations, forebodings, and dream-like foiicics. at which
 
 THE LEGEND OF S. ALEXIS. 219 
 
 shortly afterwards he may laugh outright, but which at the 
 decisive moment are often extremely oppressive. 
 
 In our noonday quarters we met with some amusement. 
 We had taken up our lodgings wdth a woman in whose house 
 everything looked neat and orderly. Her room, after the 
 fashion of the country, was wainscotted, the beds ornamented 
 with carving; the cupboards, tables, and all the other little 
 repositories vidiich Avere fastened against the walls or to the 
 corners, had pretty ornaments of turner's w^ork or carving. 
 From the portraits which hung around the room, it was easy 
 to see that several members of the family had devoted them- 
 selves to the clerical profession. Wc also observed a collec- 
 tion of bound books over the door, which we took to be the 
 endowment of one of these reverend personages. We took 
 down the Legends of the Saints, and read it while our meal 
 was preparing. On one occasion of our hostess entering the 
 room, she asked us if we had ever read the history of S. 
 Alexis? We said no, and took no further notice of her 
 (luestion, but went on reading the chapter we each had 
 begun. When, however, we had sat dovrti to table, she 
 placed herself by oiu- sides, and began again to talk of 
 S. Alexis. We asked her whether he was the patron saint of 
 herself, or of her family; which she denied, affirming at the 
 same time, hov/ever, that this saintly person had undergone 
 so much for the love of God, that his history always affected 
 her more than any other's. When she saw that -we knew 
 notliing a]:)out him, she began to narrate to us his history. 
 " S. Alexis," she said, " was the son of noble, rich, and 
 God-fearing parents in Rome, and in tlie practice of good 
 works he delighted to follow their example, for they did 
 extraordinary good to the poor. All this, however, did not 
 appear enough to Alexis; but secretly in his own heart he 
 devoted himself entii-ely to God's service, and took a vow to 
 Christ of perpetual virginity. When, then, in the course 
 of time, his parents wished to marry him to a lovely and 
 amiable maiden, he did not oppose their will. 'V\Tien, how- 
 ever, the marriage ceremony was concluded, instead of retiring 
 to his bed in the nuptial chamber, he went on board a vessel 
 which he found ready to sail, and with it passed over to Asia. 
 Mere he assumed the garl) of a wretched mendicant, and 
 became thereby so thoroughly disguised that the servants of
 
 220 LETTERS FROil SAVITZEELAKD. 
 
 ]iis father who had becu sent after him failed to rceogmse 
 liim. Here he posted himself near the door of the principal 
 chiirch, invariably attending the divine services, and sup- 
 porting himself on the alms of the faithful. After two or 
 three years various miracles took place, betokening the special 
 favour of the Almighty. The bishoj^ heard a voice in the 
 church, bidding him to summon into the sacred temple that 
 man whose prayer was most acceptable to God, and to keep 
 him by his side while he celebrated divine worship. As the 
 bishop did not at once know who could be meant, the voice 
 Avcnt on to point out to him the beggar, whom, to the great 
 astonishment of the people, he immediately fetched into the 
 church. The saintly Alexis, embarrassed by having the 
 attention of the people directed towards himself, quietly and 
 silently departed thence, also on ship-board, intending to 
 proceed still further in foreign lands. But by a tempest and 
 other circumstances he was compelled to land in Italy. The 
 saint seeing in all tliis the finger of God, was rejoiced to meet 
 with an opportmiity of exercising self-denial in the highest 
 degree. He therefore set off direct for his native town, and 
 i)laced himself as a beggar at the door of his parents" house. 
 With their usual pious benevolence did they receive him, and 
 commanded one of their servants to furnish him with lodging 
 in the castle and with all necessary sustenance. This servant, 
 annoyed at the trouble he was put to, and displeased with his 
 master's benevolence, assigned to this seeming beggar a 
 miserable hole under some stone steps, v/here he threw to him, 
 as to a dog, a sorry pittance of food. The saint instead of 
 suffering himself to be -vexed thereat, first of all thanked God 
 sincerely for it in his heart, and not only bore with patient 
 meekness all this which he might easily have altered, but with 
 incredible and superhuman fortitude, endured to witness the 
 lasting grief of his parents and Jiis wife for his absence. 
 For he heard his much-loved parents and his beautiful spouse 
 invoke his name a hundred times a day, and pray for his 
 I'etm-n, and he saw tlieui wasting their days in sorrow for his 
 supposed absence." At this passage of her narrative oui* 
 good hostess covdd not refrain her tears, while her two daugh- 
 ters, who during the story had crept close to her side, kept 
 steadily looking up in their mother's face. " But," she .con- 
 tinued, " great was the rev.ard which the Almighty bestowed
 
 THE LEGEND OF S. ALEXIS. 221 
 
 on his constancy, giving hira, at his death, the greatest pos- 
 sible proofs of his favour in the eyes of the faithful. For 
 after living several years in this state, daily frequenting the 
 service of God with the most fervent zeal, he at last fell sick, 
 without any particular heed being given to his condition by 
 any one. One morning shortly after this, Avhilc the pope was 
 himself celebrating high mass, in presence of the emperor and 
 all the nobles, suddenly all the bells in the whole city of Rome 
 began to toll as if for the passing knell of some distinguished 
 personage. "Whilst every one was full of amazement, it was 
 revealed to the pope that this marvel was in honour of the 
 death of the holiest person in tlie whole city, who had but 
 just died in the house of the noble Patrician. — The father 
 of Alexis being intejTogated, thought at once of the beggar. 
 He went home and found him beneath the stairs quite dead. 
 In his folded hands the saintly man clutched a paper, Avhich 
 his old father sought in vain to take from liim. He returned 
 to the church and told all this to the emperor and the pope, 
 who thereupon, with their coui-ticrs and clergy, set off to 
 visit the corpse of the saint. When they reached the spot, 
 the holy father took it without difficulty out of the hands of 
 tlie dead man, and handed it to the emperor, who thereupon 
 caused it to be read aloud by his chancellor. The paper con- 
 tained the history of the saint. Then you should have seen 
 the grief of his parents and wife, which now became excessive, 
 to think that they had had near to them a son and husband 
 so dear; for whom there was nothing too good that they 
 would not have done; and then too to know how ill he had 
 been treated ! They fell upon his corpse and wept so bitterly 
 that there was not one of the bystanders who could refrain 
 from tears. Moreover, among the multitude of the people 
 who gi-adually flocked to the spot, there were many sick, who 
 were brought to the body and by its touch \\ere made 
 whole." 
 
 Our fiiir story-teller affiiTned over and over again, as she 
 dried her eyes, that she had never heard a nuu-e touching 
 history, and I too was seized with so gi-eat a dci^ire to weep 
 that I had the greatest difficulty to hide and to suppress it. 
 After dinner I looked out the legend itself in Father Cochem, 
 and found that the good dame had dropped none of the purely
 
 222 LETXEES FKOM SAVITZEKLAND. 
 
 human traits of the story, while she had clean forgotten all 
 the tasteless remarks of this -vvriter. 
 
 We keep going continually to the window watching the 
 weather; and are at present very near offering a prayer to 
 the winds and clouds. Long evenings and universal stillness 
 are the elements in which writing thrives right merrily, and I 
 am convinced that if, for a few months only, I could contrive, 
 or were obliged, to stay at a spot like this, all my unfinished 
 dramas would of necessity be completed one after another. 
 
 We have already had several people before us, and questioned 
 them with regard to the pass over the Furca ; but even here 
 we have been imable to gain any precise information, although 
 the mountain is only two or thi-ee leagues distant. We must, 
 however, rest contented, and we shall set out ourselves at break 
 of day to reconnoitre, and see how destiny will decide for us. 
 However, in general, I may be disposed to take things as they 
 go, it would, I must confess, be highly annoying to me if we 
 should be forced to retrace our steps again. If we are fortu- 
 nate we shall be by to-morrow evening at E.ealp or S. 
 Gotthard, and by noon the next day among the Capuchins at 
 the summit of the mountain. If things go unfortunately we 
 have two roads open for a retreat. Back through the whole 
 of Valais, and by the well-known road over Berne to Lucerne ; 
 or back to Brieg, and then by a wide detour to S. Gotthai-d. 
 T think in this short letter I laave told you that three times. 
 But in fact it is a matter of great importance to us. Tlic 
 issue will decide which was in the right, om' corn-age, which 
 gave us a confidence that we must succeed, or the prudence of 
 certain persons who were very earnest in trying to dissuade 
 us from attempting this route. This much, at any rate, is 
 certain, that both prudence and courage must own chance to 
 be over them both. And now that we have once more 
 examined the weather, and found the air to be cold, the sky 
 bright, and without any signs of a tendency to snow, we shall 
 go calmly to bed. 
 
 Mumter, Nov. 12, 1776. 
 Early. 6 o'clock. 
 We arc quite ready, and all is packed up in order to set 
 out from hence v/ith the brcalc of day. We have before us
 
 THE PASSAGE OF THE FURCA. 223 
 
 two leagues to Oberwald, and from there the usual reckoning 
 makes six leagues to Realp. Ovu- mulo is to follow us with 
 the baggage as far as it is possible to take him. 
 
 Realp, Nov. 12, 1779. 
 Evening. 
 We reached this place just at nightfall. We have sui-- 
 mounted all difficulties, and the knots which entangled our 
 path have been cut in two. Before I tell yoy where we are 
 lodged, and before I describe to you the character of oui* 
 hosts, allow me the gratification of going over in thought the 
 3-oad that we did not see before us without anxiety, and which, 
 however, we have left behind us without accident, though not 
 ■without difficulty. About seven we started from Muuster, 
 and saw before us the snow- covered amphitheatre of mountain 
 summits, and took to be the Furca, the mountain which in 
 the background stood obliquely before it. But as we after- 
 wards learned, we made a mistake; it was concealed from 
 our view by the mountains on our left and by high clouds. 
 Hk; east wind blew strong and fought with some snow-clouds, 
 chasing the drifts, now over the mountains, now up tht; valley. 
 But this only made the snow drifts deeper on the ground, and 
 caused us several times to miss our way ; although shut in as 
 we were on both sides, wo could not fail of reaching Oberwald 
 eventually. About nine we actually got there, and cbopping 
 in at an auberge, its inmates wei'e not a little surprised to 
 see such characters appearing there this time of the year. 
 We asked whether the pass over the Furca were still practi- 
 cable, and they ansv/ered that their folk crossed it for the 
 greater pai-t of the winter, but whether we should be able to 
 get across they could not tell. We immediately sent to seek 
 for one of these persons as a guide. There soon appeared a 
 strong thick-set peasant, whose very look and shape insj)ired 
 confidence. Wi^h him we immediately began to treat: if he 
 thought the pass was practicable for us, let him say so; and 
 then take one or more comrades and come with us. After a 
 short pause he agreed, and went away to get ready himself 
 and to fetch the others. In the meantime we paid our 
 muleteer the hire of his beast, since we could no longer make 
 any use of his mule; and having eaten some bread and cheese
 
 224 LETTKUS YR021 SWITZEKLAXD. 
 
 and drank a glass of rod wine, felt full of strength and spirits^ 
 as onr guide came back, followed by another man who looked 
 still bigger and stronger than himself, and seeming to have all 
 the strength and courage of a horse, he quickly shouldered our 
 portmanteau. And now we set out, a party of five, through 
 the village, and soon reached the foot of the niomitain, which 
 lay on cm- left, and began gradually to ascend it. At first wo 
 had a beaten track to follow which came down from a neigh-- 
 homing Alp; soon, however, this came to an end, and we 
 had to go up the mountain side through the snow. Our 
 guides, with great skill, tracked their way among the rocks, 
 around which the usual path winds, although the deep and 
 smooth snow had covered all alike. Next our road lay 
 through a forest of pines, while the Rhone flowed beneath us 
 in a nan-ow imfruitful valley. Into it we also, after a little 
 while, had to descend, and by crossi?3g a little foot-bridge we 
 came in sight of the glacier of the Ehone. It is the hugest 
 we have as yet had so fidl a view of. Of very great breadth, 
 it occupies the whole saddle of the mountain, and descends 
 iminten-uptedly down to the point where, in the valley, the 
 Ehone flows out of it. At this source the people tell us it 
 has for several years been decreasing ; but that is as nothing- 
 compared with all the rest of the huge mass. Although 
 everything was full of snow, still the rough crags of ice, on 
 which the wind did not allow the snow to lie, were visible 
 with their glass blue fissures, and you could sec clearly v.herc 
 the glacier ended and the snow-covered rock began. To this 
 point, which lay on our left, avc came very close. Presently 
 we again reached a light foot-bridge over a little mountain 
 stream, which flowed through a barren trough-shaped valley 
 to join the Rhone. After passing the glacier, neither on the 
 right, nor on the left, nor before you, was there a tree to bo 
 seen, all was one desolate waste; no rugged and prominent 
 rocks — nothing but long smooth valleys, slightly inclining 
 eminences, which now, in the snow which levelled all inequa- 
 lities, presented to us their simple unbroken surfaces. I'urning 
 now to the left we ascended a mountain, sinking at every 
 step deep in the snow. One of our guides had to go first, 
 and l;()ldly treading downi the snow break the way by which 
 we were to follow. 
 
 It was a strange sight, when turning for a moment your
 
 I 
 
 THE PASSAGE OVER THE FURCA. 225 
 
 ■ attention from the road, you directed it to j-oui'self and youi* 
 fellow travellers. In the most desolate region of the world, 
 in a boundless, monotonous wilderness of mountains enveloped 
 in snow, where for three leagues before and behind, you 
 would not expect to meet a living soul, while on both sides 
 you had the deep hollows of a web of mountains, you might 
 see a line of men wending their way, treading each in the 
 deep footsteps of the one before him, and where, in the 
 whole of the wide expanse thus smoothed over, the eye 
 could discern nothing but the track they left behind them. 
 The hollows as we left them lay behind us gi'ay and bound- 
 less in the mist. The changing clouds continually passed 
 over the pale disc of the sun, and spread over the whole 
 scene a perpetually moving veil. I am convinced that any 
 one who, while pursuing this route, allowed his imagination 
 to gain the mastery, would even, in the absence of all imme- 
 diate danger, fall a victim to his own apprehensions and 
 fears. In reality, there is little or no risk of a fall here; the 
 great danger is from the avalanches, when the snow has be- 
 come deeper than it is at present, and begins to roll. 
 However our guide told us that they cross the mountains 
 throughout the winter, carrying from Valais to S. Gotthard 
 skins of the chamois, in which a considerable trade is here 
 carried on. But then to avoid the avalanches, they do not 
 take the route that we did, but remain for some time longer 
 in the broad valley, and then go straight up the mountain. 
 This road is safer, but much more inconvenient. After a march 
 of about three hom-s and a-half, we reached the saddle of the 
 Furca, near the cross which marks the boundary of Valais 
 and Uri. Even here avc could not distinguish the double 
 peak from which the Furca derives its name. We now 
 hoped for an easier descent, but our guides soon announced 
 to us still deeper snow, as we immediately fomid it to be. 
 Our mar- h continued in single file as before, and the fOi*e- 
 most man who broke the path often sank up to his waist in 
 the snow. The readiness of the people, and their light way 
 of speaking of matters, served to keep up our courage; and 
 I will say, for myself, that I have accomplished the jom-ney 
 without fatigue, although I cannot say that it was a mere 
 walk. The huntsman Hermann asserted that lie had often 
 before met with equally deep snow in the forests of Thu- 
 
 VOL. II. ' Q
 
 226 LETTERS EEOM SWITZEKLAND. 
 
 ringia, but at last he could not help bursting out with a loud 
 exclamation, " The Fui-ca is a ." 
 
 A v-iilture or lammergeier swept over our heads with 
 incredible rapidity : it was the only living thing that we had 
 met mth in this waste. In the distance we saw the moim- 
 tains of the Ursi lighted up with the bright sunshine. Oiu- 
 guides wished to enter a shepherd's hut which had been 
 abandoned and snowed up, and to take something to eat, but 
 we urged them to go onwards, to avoid standing still in the 
 cold. Here again is another groupe of valleys, and at last we 
 gained an open view into the valley of the Ursi. 
 
 We now proceeded at a shorter pace, and after travelling 
 about three leagues and a-half from the Cross, we saw the 
 scattered roofs of Realp. We had several times questioned 
 our guides as to what sort of an inn, and what kind of wine 
 we were likely to find in Realp. The hopes they gave us 
 were anything but good, but they assured us that the 
 Capuchins there, although they had not, like those on the 
 sunmiit of S. Gotthard, an hospice, were in the habit of 
 entertaining strangers. With them we should get some good 
 red wine, and better food than at an inn. We therefore 
 sent one of our party forwards to inform the Capuchins of our 
 arrival, and to prociire a lodging for us. We did not loiter 
 long behind, and arrived very soon after him, v/hen we were 
 received at the door by one of the fathers — a portly, good- 
 looking man. With much friendliness of manner he invited 
 us to enter, and at the threshold begged that we would put up 
 with such entertainment they could alone offer, as at no time 
 and least of all at this season of the year, were they prepaied 
 to receive such guests. He therefore led us into a warm 
 room, and was very diUgent in waiting upon us, while we 
 took off our boots, and changed our hnen. He begged us 
 once for all to make ourselves perfectly at home. As to our 
 meat, we must, he said, be indulgent, for they were in the 
 middle of their long fast, which would last till Christmas-day. 
 We assured him that a warm room, a bit of bread, and a glass 
 of red wine would, in our present circumstances, fuUy satisfy- 
 all our wishes. He procured us what we asked for, and we had 
 scarcely refreshed om-selves a little, ere he began to recoimt to 
 US all that concerned the establishment, and the settlement of 
 himself and feUows on this waste spot. "We have not,'" he
 
 THE CAPUCHINS AT KEAXP. 227 
 
 said, " an hospice like the fathers on Mont S. Gotthard, — 
 we are here in the capacity of parish priests, and there are 
 three of us. The duty of preaching falls to my lot; the 
 second father has to look after the school, and the brother to 
 look after the household." He went on to describe their 
 hardships and toils ; here, at the furthest end of a lonely 
 valley, separated from all the world, and working hard to 
 very Httle profit. This spot, like all others, was formerly 
 provided with a secidar priest, but an avalanche having 
 buried half of the village, the last one had rim away, and 
 taken the pix with him, whereupon he was suspended, and 
 they, of whom more resignation was expected, were sent 
 there in his place. 
 
 In order to write all this I had retu-ed to an upper room, 
 which is warmed from below by a hole in the floor; and i 
 have just received an intimation that dinner is ready, which, 
 notwithstanding our luncheon, is right welcome news. 
 
 About 9. 
 The fathers, priests, servants, guides and all, took 
 their dinner together at a common table; tlie brother, how- 
 ever, who superintended the cooking, did not make hi.s 
 appearance till dinner was nearly over. Out of milk, eggs, 
 and flour he had compounded a variety of dishes, which we 
 tasted one after another, and found them all vciy good. Om- 
 guides, who took a great pleasm-e in speaking of the suc- 
 cessful issue of our expedition, praised us for om- uncommou 
 dexterity in travelling, and assured us that it was not every 
 one that they would have undertaken the task of being guides 
 to. They even confessed also that this morning, when their 
 services were required, one had gone first to reconnoitre, and 
 to see if we looked like pcoph^ wlio would really go through all 
 difficulties with them ; for they were particularly cautious how 
 they accompanied old or weak people at this time of the year, 
 since it was their duty to take over in safety every one they had 
 once engaged to guide, being bound in case of his falling sick, 
 to carry him, even though it should be at the imminent risk 
 of their own lives, and if he were to die on the passage, not to 
 leave his body behind. This confession at once opened the 
 flood-gates to a host of anecdotes, and each in turn had his 
 story to tcU of the difiiculties and dangers of wandering over 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 LETTERS FKOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 the mountams amidst which the people had here to live as iu 
 their proper element, so that with the greatest indiiference 
 they speak of mischances and accidents to Avhich they them- 
 selves are daily liable. One of them told a story of how, on 
 the Candersteg, on his way to Mount Gemmi, he and a com- 
 rade with him (he is mentioned on every occasion with both 
 Christian and sur-name) foimd a poor family in the deep 
 snow, the mother dying, her boy half dead, and the fat: er in 
 that state of indiiference which verges on a total prostiatiou ' 
 of intellect. He took the woman on his back, and his com- 
 rade her son, and thus laden, they had driven before them 
 the father, who was unwilling to move from the spot. 
 
 Dm-ing the descent of Gemmi the woman died on his back, 
 but he brought her dead as she was to Leulvcrbad. When 
 we asked what sort of people they were, and what could have 
 brought them at such a season into the mountains, he said 
 they were poor people of the canton of Berne, who, driven 
 by want, had taken to the road at an unseasonable period of 
 the year, in the hope of finding some relations either in 
 Valais or the Italian canton, and had been overtaken by a 
 snow-storm. Moreover, they told many anecdotes of what 
 had happened to themselves dming the mnter journeys over 
 the Fmca with the chamois-skins, on which expeditions, 
 however, they always travelled in companies. Every now 
 and then our reverend host would make excuses for the 
 dinner, and we redoubled om- assurances that we wished for 
 nothing better. We also found that he contrived to bring 
 back the conversation to himself and his own matters, 
 observing that he had not been long in this place. He began 
 to talk of the office of preaching, and of the dexterity that a 
 preacher ought to have. He compared the good preacher to 
 a chapman who cleverly puffs his wares, and by his pleasant 
 M'ords makes liimself agreeable to his customers. After 
 dinner he kept up the conversation, and, as he stood with his 
 left hand leaning on the table, he accompanied his remarks 
 with his right, and while he discom-sed most eloquently on 
 eloquence, appeared at the moment as if he "s\ashed to con- 
 vince us that he himself was the dexterous chajjman. We 
 assented to his observations, and he came from the lecture to 
 the thing itself. He panegyrized the Roman Catholic reli- 
 gion. " We must," he said, " have a rule of faith ; and the great
 
 THE CAPTTCHINS AT KEALP. 229 
 
 value of it consists in its being fixed, and as little liable as 
 possible to change, We," he said, "had made Scripture the 
 foundation of o\ir faith, but it was insufficient. We ourselves 
 would not venture to put it into the hands of common men ; 
 for holy as it is, and full as every leaf is of the Spirit of God, 
 still the worldly-minded man is insensible of all this, and 
 finds rather perplexities and stumbling-blocks throughout. 
 What good can a mere layman extract from the histories of 
 sinfid men, which are contained therein, and which the Holy 
 Ghost has there recorded for the strengthening of the faith 
 of the tried and experienced children of God? What benefit 
 can a common man di-aw from all this, when he is imable to 
 consider the whole context and connection? How is such a 
 person to see his way clear out of the seeming contradictions 
 which occasionally occur? — out of the difficulties which arise 
 from the ill arrangement of the books, and the difierences of 
 style, when the learned themselves find it so hard, and while 
 so many passages make them hold their reason in abeyance ? 
 WTiat ought we therefore to teach? A rule of foith foimded 
 on Scripture, and proved by the best of commentaries? But 
 who then is to comment upon the Scripture ? Wlio is to set 
 up this rule? I, perhaps, or some other man? By no 
 means. Every man has his own way of taldng and seeing 
 things, and represents them after his own ideas. That 
 would be to give to the people as many systems of doctrines 
 as there are are heads in the world, and to produce inex- 
 plicable confusion as indeed had already been done. No, it 
 remains for the Holy Church alone to interpret Scripture to 
 detennine the rule of faith by which the souls of men are to 
 be guided and governed. And what is the church ? It is not 
 any single supreme head, or any particular member alone. 
 No ! it is all the holiest, most learned, and most experienced 
 men of all times, who, with the co-operation of the Holy 
 Spirit, have successively combined together in building up 
 that great, universal,and agi-eeing body, which has its great 
 councils for its members to communicate their thoughts to 
 one another, and for mutual edification ; which banishes error, 
 and thereby imparts to our holy rcUgion a certainty and 
 a stability such as no other profession can pretend to, and 
 gives it a foundation and strengthens it witli bulwarks 
 which even hell itself cannot overthrow. And just so is it
 
 230 XETTEKS FEOM SWITZEELAXD. 
 
 also with the text of the sacred scriptures. We have," he 
 said, " the Vulgate, moreover an approved version of the 
 Vulgate, and of every sentence a commentary which the 
 church itself has accredited. Hence arises that uniformity of 
 our teaching which surprises every one. Whether," he con- 
 tinued, " you hear me preaching in this most remote corner of 
 the world, or in the great capital of a distant country are 
 listening to the dullest or cleverest of preachers, all wiU hold 
 one and the same language; a Catholic Christian will always 
 hear the same doctrine ; everywhere will he be instructed and 
 edified in the same manner. And this it is which constitutes 
 the certaiaty of our faith; which gives us the peace and con- 
 fidence by which each one in life holds sure commimion 
 with his brother Catholics, and at death can calmly part in 
 the sure hope of meeting one another again." 
 
 In his speech, as in a sermon, he let the subjects follow in 
 due order, and spoke more fi-om an inward feeling of satisfac- 
 tion that he was exhibiting himself under a favom-able aspect 
 than from any bigotted anxiety for conversion. During the 
 delivery he would occasionally change the arm he rested upon, 
 or di-aw them both into the arms of his gown, or let them rest 
 on his portly stomach ; now and then he would, with much grace, 
 draw his snuff-box out of his capote, and after using it 
 replace it with a careless ease. We listened to him atten- 
 tively, and he seemed to be quite content with our way of 
 receiving his instructions. How greatly amazed would he 
 have been if an angel had revealed to him, at the moment, 
 that he was addressing his peroration to a descendant of 
 Frederick the Wise. 
 
 November 13, 1779. 
 
 Among the Capuchins, on the summit of 3Iont S. Gotthardy 
 
 Morning, about 10 o'clock. 
 
 At last we have fortunately reached the utmost limits of our 
 
 journey. Here it is determined we shall rest awhile, and 
 
 then turn our steps towards our dear fatherland. Very strange 
 
 are my feelings here, on this summit, where fom* years ago I 
 
 passed a few days with very different anxieties, sentiments, plans, 
 
 and hopes, and at a very different season of the year, when, 
 
 without any foreboding of my future fortunes, but moved by
 
 MOUNT S. GOTTHAKD. 231 
 
 I know not what, I turned my back upon Italy, and igno- 
 rantly went to meet my present destiny. I did not even 
 recognise the house again. Some time ago it was greatly 
 injiu-ed by an avalanche, and the good fathers took advantage 
 of this opportimity, and made a collection throughout the canton 
 for enlarging and improving their residence. Both of the 
 two fathers who reside here at present are absent, but, as I hear, 
 they are still the same that I met four years ago. Father 
 Seraphin, who has now passed fourteen years in this post is 
 at present at Milan, and the other is expected to-day from 
 Airolo. In this clear atmosphere the cold is awful. As soon 
 as dinner is over I wiU continue my letter ; for, I see clearly 
 we shall not go far outside the door. 
 
 After dinner. 
 
 It becomes colder and colder; one does not like to stir 
 from the stove. Indeed it is most delightful to sit upon it, 
 which in this countiy, where the stoves are made of stone- 
 tiles, it is very easy to do. First of all, therefore, we Avill 
 tell you of our departure from Kealp, and then of our jom-ney 
 hither. • 
 
 Yesterday evening before we retired to our beds, the good 
 father would shew us his sleeping cell, where everything was 
 in nice order, in a very small space. His bed, which con- 
 sisted of a bag of straw, with a woollen coverlid, did not 
 appear to us to be anything very meritorious, as we ourselves 
 had often put up with no better. With great pleasure and 
 internal satisfaction he showed us everything — his bookcase 
 and all other things. We praised all that we saw, and part- 
 ing on the best terms with each other, we retired for the night. 
 In fiimishing our roqrn, in order that two beds might stand 
 against one wall, both had been made unusually small. This 
 inconvenience kept me long awake, until I thought of Teme- 
 djdng it by placing four chairs together. It was quite broad 
 daylight before we awoke this morning. When we went 
 down we found nothing but happy and friendly faces. Om* 
 guides, on the point of entering upon their return over yes- 
 terday" s beauttfid route, seemed to look upon it as an epoch, 
 and as a history with which hereafter they woidd be able to 
 entertain other strangers, and as they were well paid the idea
 
 232 LETTERS FROM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 of an adventui'e became complete in their minds. After this 
 we made a capital breakfast and departed. 
 
 Our road now lay through the valley of the Uri, which is 
 remarkable as having, at so great an elevation, such beautiful 
 meadows and pasturage for cattle. They make here a cheese 
 which I prefer to all others. No trees, however, grow here. 
 Sally bushes line all the brooks, and on the mountains little 
 shrubs grow thickly together. Of all the countries that I 
 know, this is to me the loveliest and most interesting, — whe- 
 ther it is that old recollections make it precious to me, or that 
 the perception of such a long chain of nature's wonders 
 excites witliiu me a secret and inexpressible feeling of enjoy- 
 ment. I take it for granted that you bear in mind that the 
 whole country through which I am leading you is covered 
 with snow, and that rock and meadow alike are snowed over. 
 The sky has been quite clear, without a single cloud ; the 
 hue far deeper than one is accustomed to see in low and flat 
 countries, and the white mountain ridges, which stood out in 
 strong contrast to it, were either glittering in the sunshine, 
 or else took a greyish tint in the shade. 
 
 In a hour and a half we reached Hopital, — a little village 
 within the canton of Uri, which lies on the road to S. Gott- 
 hard. Here at last I regained the track of my former tour. 
 We entered an inn, and though it was as yet morning, or- 
 dered a dinner, and soon afterward began to ascend the sum- 
 mit. A long train of mules with their bells enlivened the 
 whole region. It is a sound which awakens all one's recol- 
 lections of mountain scenery. The greater part of the train 
 Avas in advance of us, and with their sharp iron shoes had 
 pretty well cut up the smooth icy road. We also saw some 
 labourers who were employed in covering the slippeiy ice with 
 fresh earth, in order to render it passable. The wish which I 
 formerly gave utterance to, that I might one day be per- 
 mitted to see this part of the world under snow, is now at 
 last gratified. The road goes up the Ileuss as it dashes down 
 over rockj> all the way, and fonms everywhere the most beautiful 
 waterfalls. We stood a long while attracted by the singidar 
 beauty of one which in considerable volume was dashing over a 
 succession of dark black rocks. Here and there in the cracks, 
 and on the flat ledges pieces of ice had formed, and the water 
 seemed to be rimnin": over a variecjated black and white
 
 MOUNT S. GOTTKAKD. 233 
 
 marble. The masses of ice glistened like veins of crj-stal 
 in the sim, and the water flowed piu-e and fresh between 
 them. 
 
 On the mountains there is no more tu-esome a feUow- 
 traveller than a train of mules ; they have so imequal a pace. 
 With a strange instinct they always stop a while at the bot- 
 tom of a steep ascent, and then dash off at a quick pace up it, 
 to rest again at the top. Very often too they will stop at 
 the level spots which do occur now and then, imtil they are 
 forced on by the drivers or by other beasts coming up. And 
 so the foot passenger, by keeping a steady pace, soon gains 
 upon them, and in the narrow road has to push by them. If 
 you stand still a little while to observe any object, they in 
 their turn will pass by you, and you are pestered with the 
 deafening sound of theii- bells, and hard brushed with their 
 loads, which project to a good distance on each side of them. 
 In this way we at last reached the summit of the moimtain. 
 which you can form some idea of by fancying a bald skull 
 surrounded with a crown. Here one finds oneself on a ])er- 
 fect flat surroimded with peaks. Far and near the eye falls 
 on nothing but bare and mostly snow-covered peaks and 
 crags. 
 
 It is scarcely possible to keep oneself warm, especially as 
 they have here no fuel but brusliwood, and of that too they 
 are obliged to be very sparing, as they have to fetch it up the 
 mountains, from a distance of at least three leagues, for at 
 the summit, they tell us, scarcely any kind of wood grows. 
 The reverend father is returned from Airolo, so frozen that on 
 his arrival he could scarcely utter a word. Although here 
 the Capuchins are allowed to clothe themselves a little more 
 comfortably than the rest of their order, still their style of 
 dress is by no means suited for such a climate as this. All 
 the way up from Airolo the road was frozen perfectly smooth, 
 and he had the wind in his face : his beard was (piite frozen, 
 and it was a long while before he recovered himself. We 
 had some conversation together on the hardships of their 
 residence here; he told us how they managed to get tlu-ough 
 the year, their various occupations, and their domestic cir- 
 cumstances. He could speak nothing but Italian, and so we 
 had an opportimity of putting to use the exercises in this 
 language which we had taken dmiiig the spring. Towards
 
 234 LETTERS FEOM SWITZERLAND. 
 
 evening we went for a moment outside the house-door that the 
 good fiither might point out to us the peak which is considered 
 to be the highest summit of Mont Gotthard ; but we could 
 scarcely endure to stay out a very few minutes, so searching 
 and pinching was the cold. This time, therefore, we shall 
 remain close shut up within doors, and shall have time enough 
 before we start to-morrow, to travel again in thought over all 
 the most remarkable parts of this region. 
 
 A brief geogi-aphical description will enable you to under- 
 stand how remarkable the point is at which we are now 
 sitting. S. Gothard is not indeed the highest mountain of 
 Switzerland ; in Savoy, Mont Blanc has a far higher elevation 
 and yet it maintains above all others the rank of a king of 
 mountains, because all the great chains converge together 
 aroimd him, and aU rest upon him as their base. Indeed, 
 if I do not make a great mistake, I think I was told at Berne, 
 by Herr Wyttcnbach, who, from its highest summit, had seen 
 the peaks of all the others, that the latter all leaned towards 
 it. The mountains of Schweitz and Untei-waldeu, joined by 
 those of Uri range from the north, from the east those of the 
 Grisons, from the south those of the Italian cantons, while 
 from the east, by means of the Furca, the double line of 
 mountains which enclose Valais, presses upon it. Not far 
 from this house, there are two small lakes, one of which sends 
 forth the Ticino through gorges and valleys into Italy, while 
 from the other, in Uke manner, the Reuss proceeds till it empties 
 itself in the Lake of the Forest towns.* Not far from this 
 spot are the sources of the llhine, which pursue an easterly 
 course, and il' then we take in the Rhone which rises at the 
 foot of the Furca and runs westward through Valais, we 
 shall find ourselves at the point of a cross, from which 
 mountain ranges and rivers proceed towards the foiu- cardinal 
 points of heaven. 
 
 * Lake Lucerne.
 
 TRAVELS IN ITALY. 
 
 AUOH IN AROADIEN.
 
 TRAVELS IN ITALY. 
 
 AUCH IN ARCADIEN. 
 
 FROM CARLSBAD TO THE BRENNER. 
 
 September 3, 1786. 
 As early as 3 o'clock in the morning I stole out of Carlsbad, 
 for otherwise I should not have been allowed to depart quietly. 
 'J'he band of friends who, on the 28tli of August, rejoiced to 
 celebrate my birthday, had in some degree acquired a right 
 to detain me. However, it was impossible to stay here any 
 longer. Having packed a portmanteau merely, and a knap- 
 sack, I jumped alone into a post-chaise, and by half past 8, 
 on a beautifully calm but foggy morning, I arrived at 
 Zevoda. The upper clouds were streaky and fleecy, the lower 
 ones heavy. This appeared to me a good sign. I hoped 
 that, after so wi'ctched a summer, wc should enjoy a fine 
 autumn. About 12, I got to P>gra, under a warm and shining 
 Sim, and now, it occm-red to me, that this place had the same 
 latitude as my own native town, and it was a real pleasure to 
 me once more to take my midday meal beneath a bright sky, 
 at the fiftieth degree. 
 
 On entering Bavaria one comes at once on the monastery of 
 Waldsassen, with the valuable domain of the ecclesiastical lords, 
 who Avere wise sooner than other men. It lies in a dish-like, 
 not to say cauldron-like, hollow, in a beautiful wheat- gi'ound, 
 inclosed on all sides by slightly ascending and fertile heights. 
 This cloister also possesses settlements in the neighbom'ing 
 districts. The soil is decomposed slate-clay. The marl, 
 which is found in this mineral formation, and which, as yet 
 undecomposed, slowly crumbles, makes the earth loose and 
 extremely fertile. The land continues to rise until you come
 
 238 rETTEKS PKOM ITALY. 
 
 to Tirschenreiitli, and the waters flow against you, to fall into 
 the Egra and the Elbe. From Tirschenreuth it descends 
 southwards, and the streams run towards the Danube. I can 
 form a pretty rapid idea of a countiy as soon as I know by 
 examination which way even the least brook runs, and can 
 determine the river to whose basin it belongs. By this means, 
 even in those districts which it is impossible to take a survey 
 of, one can, in thought, form a connection between Hnes of 
 mountains and vaUeys. From the last-mentioned place begins 
 an excellent road formed of granite. A better one cannot be 
 conceived, for, as the decomposed granite consists of gravelly 
 and argillaceous earths, they bind excellently together, and 
 form a solid foundation, so as to make a road as smooth as a 
 threshing floor. The country thi-ough which it runs looks so 
 much the worse ; it also consists of a granite-sand, lies very 
 flat and marshy, and the excellent road is aU the more 
 desirable. And as, moreover, the roads descend gradually 
 from this plane, one gets on with a rapidity that strikingly 
 contrasts with the general snail's pace of Bohemian travelling. 
 The inclosed billet will give you the names of the different 
 stages. Suffice it to say, that on the second morning I was 
 at Ratisbon, and so I did these twenty-four miles* and a half 
 in thirty-nine hours. As the day began to dawn I found 
 myself between Schwondorf and Regenstauf, and I observed 
 here a change for the better in the cultivation of the land. 
 The soU was no longer the mere debris of the rock, but a 
 mixed alluvial deposit. The inundation by which it was 
 deposited must have been caused by the ebb and flood, from 
 the basin of the Danube into aU the vaUeys which at present 
 drain theii- water into it. In this way were formed the 
 natural boUs {polder), on which the tillage is carried on. 
 This remark applies to all lands in the neighbom-hood of large 
 or small streams, and with this guide any observer may form 
 a conclusion as to the soils suited for tillage. 
 
 Ratisbon is, indeed, beautifully situated. The country 
 coidd not but invite men to settle and build a city in it, and 
 the spiidtual lords have shown their judgment. All the land 
 
 * A German mile is exactly equal to four English geographical, and 
 to rather more than four and a quarter ordinary miles. The distance in 
 the text may, therefore, be roughly set down as one hundred and tour 
 miles English. [A. J. W. M,]
 
 RATISBON. 239 
 
 around the town belongs to them ; in the city itself churches 
 crowd chui'ches, and monastic buildings are no less thick. 
 The Danube reminds me of the dear old Main. At Frank- 
 fort, indeed, the river and bridges have a better appearance ; 
 here, however, the view of the northern suburb, Stadt-am-hof, 
 looks very pretty, as it lies before you across the river. 
 
 Immediately on my arrival I betook myself to the College 
 of the Jesuits, where the annual play was being acted by the 
 pupils. I saw the end of the opera, and the beginning of the 
 tragedy. They did not act worse than many an unexperienced 
 company of amateurs, and their dresses were beautiful, almost 
 too superb. This public exhibition also served to convince 
 me still more strongly of the worldly prudence of the Jesuits. 
 They neglect nothing that is likely to produce an effect, and 
 contrive to practise it with interest and care. In this there 
 is not merely prudence, such as we iniderstand the term 
 abstractedly ; it is associated with a real pleasure in the matter 
 in hand, a sympathy and a fellow feeling, a taste, such as arises 
 from the experience of life. As this great society has among 
 its members organ builders, sculptors, and gilders, so assuredly 
 there are some who patronise the stage with learning and 
 taste ; and just as they decorate their churches with appro- 
 priate ornaments, these clear-sighted men take advantage of 
 the world's sensual eye by au imposing theatre. 
 
 To-day I am -wiiting in latitude forty-nine degrees. The 
 weather promises fair, and even here the people complain of 
 the coldness and wet of the past summer. The morning was 
 cool, but it was the beginning of a glorious and temperate 
 day. The mild atmosphere which the mighty river brings 
 with it is something quite peculiar. The fruits are nothing 
 very surprising. I have tasted, indeed, some excellent pears, 
 but I am longing for grapes and figs. 
 
 My attention is rivetted by the actions and principles of 
 the Jesuits. Their churches, towers, and buildings, have a 
 something great and perfect in then- plan, which imposes all 
 beholders with a secret awe. In the decoration, gold, silver, 
 metal, and polished marble, are accumidated in such splen- 
 dour and profusion as must dazzle the beggars of all ranks. 
 Here and there one foils not to meet with" something in bad 
 taste, in order to appease and to attract humanity. This is 
 the general character of the external ritual of the Roman
 
 240 LETTERS FEOJI ITALY. 
 
 Catholic Chiircli ; never, however, have I seen it applied with 
 so much shi-cwdness, tact, and consistency, as among the 
 Jesuits. Here all tends to this one end ; unlike the members 
 of the other spiritual orders, they do not continue an old 
 ■worn-out ceremonial, but, humouring the spirit of the age, 
 continualh' deck it out with fresh pomp and splendour. 
 
 A rare stone is quanied here into blocks. In appearance 
 it is a species of conglomerate ; however, it must be held to 
 be older, more primaiy, and of a porphyritic natm-e. It is of 
 a greenish color, mixed with quartz, and is porous ; in it are 
 found large pieces of very solid jasper, in which, again, are 
 to be seen little roimd pieces of a kind of Breccia. A speci- 
 men would have been very instructive, and one could not help 
 longing for one ; the rock, however, was too solid, and I had 
 taken a vow not to load myself with stones on this journey. 
 
 Munich, September 6, 1786. 
 
 At half past 12, on the 5th of September, I set off for 
 Ratisbon. At Abbach the country is beautiful, while the 
 Danube dashes against limestone rocks as far as Saal. The 
 limestone, somewhat similar to that at Osteroda, on the 
 Hartz, close, but, on the whole, porous. By 6 a.m. I was in 
 Miuiich, and, after having looked about me for some twelve 
 hours, I will notice only a few points. In the Sculpture 
 GaUcry I did not find myself at home. I must practise my 
 eye first of all on paintings. There are some excellent things 
 here. The sketches of Reubens fi-om the Luxembourg Gal- 
 lery caused me the greatest deUght. 
 
 Here, also, is the rare toy, a model of Trajan's Pillar. 
 The material Lapis Lazuli, and the figures in gilt. It is, at 
 any rate, a rare piece of workmanship, and, in this light, one 
 takes pleasm-e in looking at it. 
 
 In the HaU of the Antiques I soon felt that my eye was 
 not much practised on such objects. On this account I was 
 unwilhng to stay long there, and to waste my time. There 
 was much that did not take my fancy, without my being able 
 to say why. A Drusus attracted my attention ; two Anto- 
 nines pleased me, as also did a few other things. On the 
 whole, the arrangement of the objects was not happy, although 
 there is an evident attempt to m.ake a display with them, and
 
 MUNICH. — MITTELWALD. 241 
 
 the hall, or rather the museum, would have a good appearance 
 if it were kept in better repair and cleaner. In the Cabinet 
 of Natural History I saw beautiful things from the Tyrol, 
 which, in smaller specimens, I was already acquainted with, 
 and, indeed, possessed. 
 
 I was met by a woman with figs, which, as the first, tasted 
 delicious. But the fruit in general is not good considering 
 the latitude of forty-eight degrees. Every one is complaining 
 here of the wet and cold. A mist, which might well be called 
 a rain, overtook me this morning early before I reached 
 Munich. Throughout the day the wind has continued to 
 blow cold from ofi" the Tyrolese mountains. As I looked 
 towards them from the tower I found them covered, and the 
 Avhole heavens shrouded with clouds. Now, at setting, the 
 sun is shining on the top of the ancient tower, which stands 
 right opposite to my window. Pardon me that I dwell so 
 much on wind and weather. The traveller by land is almost 
 as much dependent upon them as the voyager by sea, and it 
 would be a sad thing if my autumn in foreign lands should be 
 as little favoured as my siimmer at home. 
 
 And now straight for Innspruck. WTiat do I not pass 
 over, both on my right and on my left, in order to carry out 
 the one thought which has become almost too old in my sold. 
 
 Mittelivald, September 7, 1786, < 
 It seems as if my guardian-spirit had said " Amen" to my 
 " Credo," and I thank him that he has brought me to this 
 place on so fine a day. My last postilion said, with a joyous 
 exclamation, it was the first in the whole summer. I cherish 
 in quiet my superstition that it will long continue so; how- 
 ever, my friends must pardon me if again I talk of air and 
 clouds. 
 
 As I started from Munich about 5 o'clock, the sky cleared 
 up. On the mountains of the Tyrol the clouds stood in huge 
 masses. The streaks, too, in the lower regions did not move. 
 The road lies on the heights over hills of alluvial gravel, 
 while below one sees the Isar flowing slowly. Here the 
 work of the inundations of the primal oceans become con- 
 ceivable. In manv granite-rubbles I found the counterparts 
 Vol. H. ' e
 
 242 XETTEES mOM TTAir. 
 
 of the specimens in my cabinet, for which. I have to thank 
 Knebel. 
 
 The mists from the river and the meadows hmig about for 
 a time, but, at last, they, too. dispersed. Between these 
 gravelly hills, which you must think of as extending, 
 both in length and breadth, for many leagues, is a highly 
 beautiful and fertile region like that in the basin of the 
 Kegen. Now one comes again upon the Isar, and observe, 
 in its channel, a precipitous section of the gravel hills, at 
 least a hundred and fifty feet high. I arrived at Wolfraths- 
 hausen and reached the eight-and-fortieth degree. The sun 
 was scorching hot ; no one relies on the fine weather ; every 
 one is complaining of the past year, and bitterly weeping 
 over the ai-rangements of Providence. 
 
 And now a new world opened upon me. I was approach- 
 ing the momitains which stood out more and more distinctly. 
 
 Benedictbeuern has a glorious situation and charms one at 
 the fii"st sight. On a fertile pla,in is a long and broad white 
 building, and, behind it, a broad and lofty ridge of rocks. 
 Next, one ascends to the Kochel-see, and. still higher on the 
 mountains, to the Walchen-see. Here I greeted the first 
 snow-capt summit, and, in the midst of my admiration at 
 being so near the snowy moimtains, I was informed that 
 yesterday it had thundered in these parts, and that snow 
 had fallen on the heights. From these meteoric tokens 
 people di-aw hopes of better weather, and from this early 
 snow, anticipate change in the atmosphere. The rocks aro\md 
 me are all of limestone, of the oldest formation, and contain- 
 ing no fossils. These limestone mountains extend in vast, 
 unbroken ranges from Dalmatia to Mount St. Gothard. 
 Hacquet has travelled over a considerable portion of the 
 chain. They dip on the primary rocks of the quartz and 
 clay. 
 
 i reached the "Wallen-see about half past 4. About three 
 miles from this place I met with a pretty adventure. A 
 harper came before me with his daughter, a little girl, of about 
 eleven years, and begged me to take up his child. He went 
 on with his instrimient ; I let her sit by my side, and she very 
 carefully placed at her feet a large new bos. A pretty and 
 accomplished creature, and already a great traveller over the 
 world. She had been on a pilgrimage on foot with her
 
 THE ROAD UP THE BKENNEK. 243 
 
 mother to Maria Einsiedel, and both had determined to go 
 xipon the still longer journey to S. Jago of Compostella, when 
 her mother was carried oif by death, and was unable to fulfil 
 her vow. It was impossible, she thought, to do too much in 
 honor of the Mother of God. After a great fire, in which a 
 whole house was burnt to the lowest foundation, she herself 
 had seen the image of the Mother of God, which stood over the 
 door beneath a glass frame — image and glass both iminjm-ed 
 — which was surely a palpable miracle. All her jom-neys she 
 had taken on foot ; she had just played in Munich before the 
 Elector of Bavaria, and altogether her performances had been 
 witnessed by one-and-twenty princely personages. She quite 
 entertained me. Pretty, large, hazel eyes, a proud forehead, 
 which she frequently ^vrinklcd by an elevation of the brows. 
 She was natural and agreeable when she spoke, and esjsecially 
 when she laughed out loud with the free laugh of childhood. 
 When, on the other hand, she was silent, she seemed to have 
 a meaning in it, and, with her upper lip, had a sinister 
 expression. I spoke with her on very many subjects, she 
 was at home with all of them, and made most pertinent 
 remarks. Thus she asked me once, what tree one we came 
 to, was. It was a huge and beautiful maple, the fii'st I had 
 seen on my whole journey. She narrowly observed it, and 
 was quite deUghted when several more appeared, and she was 
 able to recognize this tree. She was going, she told me, to 
 Botzen for the fail-, where she guessed I too was hastening. 
 When she met me there I must buy her a fairing, which^ of 
 course, I promised to do. She intended to put on there her new 
 coif which she had had made out of her earnings at Munich. 
 She would show it to me beforehand. So she opened the 
 bandbox and I could not do less than admire the head-gear, 
 with its rich embroidery and beautifid ribbons. 
 
 Over another pleasant prospect we felt a mutual plea- 
 sure. She asserted that we had fine weather before us. 
 For they always canned their barometer with them and that 
 was the harp. When the treble-string twanged it was sm-e 
 to be fine weather, and it had done so yesterday. I accepted 
 the omen, and we parted in the best of humom's, and with the 
 liope of a speedy meeting. 
 
 k2
 
 244 XETXERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 On (he Brenner, September 8, 1786, 
 Ecening. 
 
 HuiTled, not to say di'iven, here by necessity, I have 
 reached at last a resting-place, in a calm, quiet spot, just such 
 as I could wish it to be. It has been a day which for many years 
 it will be a pleasure to recall. I left Mittelwald about 6 in 
 the morning, and a sharp wind soon perfectly cleared the 
 sky. The cold was such as one looks for only in February. 
 But now, in the splendour of the setting sim, the dark fore- 
 gi'omid, thickly planted with fig-trees, and peeping between 
 them the grey limestone rocks, and beliind all, the highest 
 summit of the mountain covered with snow, and standing 
 out in bold outline against the deep blue sky, furnish pre- 
 cious and ever-changmg images. 
 
 One enters the Tyrol by Schamitz. The boundaiy line is 
 marked by a wall which bars the passage through the valley, 
 and abuts on both sides on the mountains. It looks well : on 
 one side the rocks are fortified, on the other they ascend per- 
 pendicularly. From Seefeld the road continually grew more 
 interesting, and if from Benedictbeuern to tliis place it went 
 on ascending, from height to height, while all the streams of 
 the neighbouring districts were making for the Isar, now one 
 caught a sight over a ridge of rocks of the vaUey of the Inn, 
 and Inzingen lay before us. The sun was high and hot, so 
 that I was obliged to throw off some of my coats, for, indeed, 
 with the varying atmosphere of the day, I am obliged fre- 
 quently to change my clothing. 
 
 At Zicrl one begins to descend into the valley of the Inn. 
 Its situation is indescribably beautiful, and the Ijright beams 
 of the Sim made it look quite cheerful. The postilion went 
 faster than I wished, for he had not yet heard mass, and wa;< 
 anxious to be present at it at lunspruck, where, as it was the 
 festival of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, he hoped to be a 
 devout })articipaut. Accordingly, we rattled along the banlis 
 of the Inn, hurrying by Martinswand, a vast, precipitous, 
 wall-like rock of limeston(\ To the spot where the Emperor 
 Maximilian is said to have lost liimself, I ventured to 
 descend and came up again without a guide, although it is, 
 in any case, a rash imdertaking. 
 
 Innspruck is gloriously situated in a rich, broad vaUey,
 
 lyNSmUCK.— METEOROLOGY. 245 
 
 hetwecn high rocks and mountains. Eveiybody and every- 
 thing was decked out in honour of the Virgins Nativity. At 
 first I had some wish to stop there, but it promised neither 
 rest nor peace. For a little while I amused myself with the 
 son of my host. At last the people who were to attend to me 
 came in one by one. For the sake of health and prosperity to 
 the flocks, they had all gone on a pilgrimage to Wilden, a 
 place of worship on the momitains, about tlu-ee miles and 
 II half from the city. About 2 o'clock, as my rolling carriage 
 divided the gay, merry tln-ong, every one was in holiday garb 
 and promenade, 
 
 From Innspnick the road becomes even still more beauti- 
 ful ; no powers of description can equal it. The most ii'e- 
 quented road, ascending a gorge which empties its waters into 
 the Inn, offers to the eye innumerable varieties of scenery. 
 While the road often runs close to the most rugged rocks — 
 indeed is freq\iently cut right through them — one sees the other 
 side above you slightly inclining, and cultivated with the most 
 surprising skill. On the high and broad-ascending surface 
 lie valleys, houses, cottages, and cabi)is, whitewashed, glitter- 
 ing among the fields and hedges. Soon all changed ; the land 
 becomes available only for ])astm-e, imtil it, too, terminates 
 on the precipitous ascent. I have gained some ideas for my 
 scheme of a creation ; none, however, ]3erfeetly new and un- 
 expected. I have also dreamed much of the model I have so 
 long talked about, by which I am desirous to give a notion of 
 all that is brooding in my own mind, and which, in nature 
 itself, I cannot point out to every eye. 
 
 Now it grew darker and darker; individual objects were 
 lost in the obscurity; the masses became constantly vaster 
 and gi-ander ; at last, as the whole moved before me like some 
 deeply mysterious figure, the moon suddenly illuminated the 
 snow-capt summits : and now I am waiting till morniiig shall 
 light up this rocky chasm in which I am shut u]) on the 
 bomidary line of the north and south. 
 
 I must again add a few remarks on the weather, which, 
 perhaps, favours me so highly, in return for the great attention 
 I pay to it. On the lowlands one has good or bad weather 
 when it is already settled for either : on the mountains one is 
 present with the beginning of the change. I have so often 
 experienced this when on my travel'^, or vralks, or Inmting
 
 246 XETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 excursions, I have passed days and nights between the cliffs in 
 the mountain forests. On such occasions, a conceit occurred 
 to me, which I give you us nothing better, but which, however, 
 I cannot get rid of, as indeed, generally, such conceits are, of 
 all things, most difficidt to get rid of. I altogether look upon 
 it as a truth, and so I win now give utterance to it, especially 
 as I have already so often had occasion to prove the indul- 
 gence of my friends. 
 
 When we look at the moimtains, either closely or from a 
 distance, and see their summits above us at one time glittering 
 in the sunshine, at another enveloped in mist, swept round with 
 strong clouds, or blackened with showers, we are disposed to 
 ascribe it aU to the atmosphere, as we can easily with the eye 
 see and discern its movements and changes. The moim- 
 tains, on the other hand, with their glorious shapes lie before 
 our outward senses immoveable. We take them to be dead 
 because they are rigid, and we believe them to be inactive 
 because thev are at rest. For a long while, however. I can- 
 not put off the impulse to ascribe, for the most part, to their 
 imperceptible and secret influence the changes which are 
 observable in the atmosphere. For instance, I believe that 
 the mass of the earth generally, and, therefore, also in an 
 especial way its more considerable continents do not exercise 
 a constant and invariable force of attraction, but that this 
 attractive force manifests itself by a certain pulse which, 
 according to intrinsic, necessary, and probably also acci- 
 dental, external causes, increases or decreases. Though aU 
 attempts b}^ other objects to determine this oscillation may be 
 too limited and rude, the atmosphere furnishes a standard 
 both delicate and large enough to test their silent operations. 
 When this attractive force decreases never so little, immedi- 
 ately the decrease in the gravity and the diminished elasticity 
 of the ail- indicates this . effect. The atmosphere is now 
 imable to sustain the moisture wliich is diffused tkroughout it 
 either chemically or mechanically ; the clouds lower, and the 
 rain falls and passes to the lowlands. When, however, the 
 mountains increase their power of attraction, then the elas- 
 ticity of the air is again restored, and two important pheno- 
 mena residt. First of all. the mountains collect aroimd their 
 summits vast masses of clouds ; hold them fast and firm above 
 themselves like second heads, until, as determined by the
 
 METEOEOLOGY. — TEGETATIOIS'. 247 
 
 contest of electrical forces within them, they pour down 
 as thunder-showers, rain or mist, and then, on all that 
 remains the electricity of the air operates, which is now 
 restored to a capacity of retaining more water, dissolving and 
 elaborating it. I saw quite clearly the dispersion of a cloudy 
 mass of this kind. It was hanging on the very highest peak ; 
 the red tints of the setting sun still ilhuninated it. Slowly 
 and slowly pieces detached themselves from either end. 
 Some fleecy nebulae were dra-mi oif and carried up still 
 higher, and then disappeared, and in this manner, by degrees, 
 the whole mass vanished, while before my eyes there was 
 spread, as it were, a garment by invisible hands. 
 
 If my friends are disposed to laugh at the itinerant meteor- 
 ologist and his strange theories, I shall, perhaps, give them 
 more solid cause for laughter by some other of my remarks, 
 for I must confess that, as my joiu-ney was, in fact, a flight 
 from aU the imshapely tilings which tormented me in latitude; 
 51", I hoped, in 48'', to meet with a time Goshen. But I 
 found myself disappointed ; for latitude alone does not make 
 a climate and fine weather, but the mountain-chains — especi- 
 ally such as intersect the land from east to west. In these, 
 great changes are constantly going on, and the lands which 
 lie to the north have most to suffer fi-om them. Thus, fur- 
 ther north, the weather thi-oughout the summer was deter- 
 mined by the great Alpine range on which I am now writing. 
 Here, for the last few months, it has rained incessantly, while 
 a south-east or south-west wind carried the showers north- 
 wards. In Italy they are said to have had fine weather, 
 indeed, a little too dry. 
 
 And now a few words on a kindred subject — the vegetable 
 world, which, in so many ways, depends on cHmate and 
 moisture, and the heiglit of the mountain-ranges. Here, too, 
 I have noticed no remarkable cliange, but still an improve- 
 ment. In the valley before Innspruck, apples and pears are 
 ' abimdant, while the peaches and grapes are brought from the 
 Welsh districts, or, in other words, the Southern Tyrol. 
 Near Innspruck they grow a great deal of Indian corn and 
 buck wheat, which they caU hlende. On the Brenner I first 
 saw the larch, and near Schemberg the pine. Would the 
 harper's daughter have questioned me about them also ? 
 
 As regards the plants, I feel still more how perfect a tyro
 
 248 LriTEKS VKOM ITALY. 
 
 I am. Up to Munich I saw, I believed, none but those I 
 was well accustomed to. In truth, my hurried travelling, by 
 day and night, was not favorable to nicer observation on such 
 objects. Now, it is true, I have my Linnceus at hand, and his 
 Terminology is well stamped on my brain : but whence is the 
 time and quiet to come for analysing, which, if I at all know 
 myself, will never become my forte? I. therefore, sharpen 
 my eye for the more general features, and when I met with 
 the first Gentiana near the Walchensee, it struck me that it 
 was always nefj" the water, that I had hitherto noticed any 
 new plants. 
 
 ^Vllat made me still more attentive was the influence which 
 the altitude of the mountain region evidently had on plants. 
 Not only did I meet there with new specimens, but I also 
 observed that the giowth of the old ones was materially 
 altered. While in the lower regions branches and stalks were 
 stronger and more sappy, the buds stood closer together, and the 
 leaves broader; the higher you got on the mountains the stalks 
 and branches became more fragile, the buds were at greater 
 intervals, and the leaves thinner and more lanceolate. I 
 noticed this in the case of a WilloAV and of a Gentiana, and 
 convinced myself that it was not a ease of dijfferent species. 
 So also, near the Walchensee, I noticed longer and thinner 
 rushes than anj-^vhere else. 
 
 The limestone of the Alps, which I have as yet travelled 
 over, has a greyish tint, and beautiful, singidar, in-egular 
 forms, although the rock is divisible into blocks and strata. 
 But as irregular strata occur, and the rock in general does 
 not crumble equally under the influence of the weather, the 
 sides and the peaks have a singidar appearance. This kind 
 of rock comes up the Brenner to a great height. In the 
 region of the Upper Lake I noticed a sHght modification. 
 On a micaceous slate of dark gi-een and gi-ey colours, and 
 thickly veined with quartz, lay a white, soHd limestone, 
 which, in its detritus, sparkled and stood in gi'eat masses, with 
 numberless clefts. Above it I again fomid micaceous slate, 
 which, however, seemed to me to be of a softer texture than 
 the first. Higher up still there was to be seen a peculiar 
 kind of gneiss, or rather a gi'anitic species which approxi- 
 mated to gn*iss, as is in the district of EUbogen. Here at 
 the top, and opposite the Inn, the rock is micaceous slate.
 
 GEOXOGY.— MY FELLOW TKAVELLEKS. 249 
 
 The streams which come from the moimtains leave deposits of 
 nothing but this stone, and of the grey limestone. 
 
 Not far from here must be the granitic base on which all 
 rests. The maps show that one is on the side of the true 
 gi-eat Brenner, from which the streams of a 'ftide sm-rounding 
 district take theii- rise. 
 
 The following is my external judgment of the people. 
 They are active and straightforward. In form they are pretty 
 generally alike: hazel, well-opened eyes; with the women 
 brown and well-defined eyebrows, but with the men light and 
 thick. Among the grey rocks the gi-een hats of the men 
 have a cheerful appearance. The hats are generally orna- 
 mented with ribbons or broad silk-sashes, and with fringes 
 which are prettily sewn on. On the other hand, the women 
 disfigure themselves with white, imdressed cotton caps of a 
 large size, very much like men's nightcaps. These give them 
 a very strange appearance ; but abroad, they wear the green 
 hats of the men, which become them very much. 
 
 I have opportunity of seeing the value the common class of 
 people put upon peacock's feathers, and, in general, how 
 every variegated feather is prized. He who wishes to travel 
 through these mountains will do well to take with him a lot 
 of them. A feather of this kind produced at the proper 
 moment will serve instead of the ever-welcome " something 
 to drink." 
 
 ^Vhilst I am putting together, soiting, and arranging these 
 sheets, in such a way that my friends may easily take a 
 review of my fortunes up to this point, and that I may, at the 
 same time, dismiss from my soul all that I have lately* thought 
 and cxperi(niced, I have, on the other hand, cast many a 
 trembling look on some packets of which I must give a good 
 but brief account. They are to be my fellow travellers ; may 
 they not exercise too great an influence on my next few 
 days. 
 
 I brought \vith me to Carlsbad the whole of my MSS. in 
 order to complete the edition of my works, which Goschen 
 has undertaken. The imprinted ones I had long possessed in 
 beautiful transcripts, by the practised hand of Secretary 
 Vogel. This active person accompanied me on this occasion, 
 m order that I might, if necessary, command his dexterous 
 services. By this means, and with the never-failing co-ope-
 
 250 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 ration of Herder, I was soon in a condition to send to the 
 printer the first four volumes, and was on the point of doing 
 the same with the last four. The latter consisted, for the 
 most part, of mere unfinished sketches, indeed of fi-agments ; 
 for, in truth, my perverse habit of beginning many plans, and 
 then, as the interest waned, laying them aside, had gradually 
 gained strength with increasing years, occupations, and 
 duties. 
 
 As I had brought these scraps with me, I readily listened to 
 the requests of the literary circles of Carlsbad, and read out 
 to them all that before had remained unknown to the world, 
 which ah-eady was bitter enough in its complaints that much 
 with which it had entertained itself still remained unfinished. 
 
 The celebration of my birthday consisted mainly in sending 
 me several poems in the name of my commenced but un- 
 finished works. Among these, one was distinguished above 
 the rest. It was called the Birds. A deputation of these 
 happy creatures being sent to a true Mend earnestly entreat him 
 to found at once and establish the kingdom so long promised 
 to them. Not less obvious and playful were the allusions to 
 my other xmfinished pieces, so that, all at once, they again 
 possessed a living interest for me, and I related to my friends 
 the designs I had formed, and the entire plans. This gave 
 rise to ihe expression of wishes and urgent requests, and gave 
 the game entirely into Herder's hands, while he attempted 
 to induce me to take back these papers, and, above aU, to 
 bestow upon the Iphigenia the pains it well deserve d. The 
 fragment which Ues before me is rather a sketch than a 
 finished piece; it is written in poetical prose, which occa- 
 sionally falls into a sort of lambical rhythm, and even 
 imitates other syllabic metres. This, indeed, does great 
 injury to the effect unless it is read well, and unless, by skil- 
 fid turns, this defect is carefuUy concealed. He pressed this 
 matter on me very earnestly, and as I concealed from him as 
 well as the rest the great extent of my intended tour, and as 
 he believed I had nothing more in view than a mountain trip, 
 and as he was always ridiculing my geographical and mine- 
 ralogical studies, he insisted I should act much wiser if, 
 instead of breaking stones, I would put my hand to this work. 
 I could not but give way to so many and well-meant remon- 
 strances ; but, as yet, I have had no opportunity to turn my
 
 TRENT. 251 
 
 attention to these matters. I now detach fyhigenia from the 
 bundle and take her with me as my fellow-traveller into the 
 beautiful and v/arm country of the South. The days are so 
 long, and there -sviU be nothing to disturb reflection, while* 
 the glorious objects of the smTOunding scenery by no means 
 depress the poetic nerve ; indeed, assisted by movement and 
 the free air, they rather stimulate and call it forth more 
 quickly and more vividly. 
 
 FROM THE BRENNER TO VERONA. 
 
 Trent, morning of the 1 1 tli Sept. 
 After full fifty hours, passed in active and constant occupa- 
 tion, I reached here about 8 o'clock yesterday evening, and 
 soon after retired to rest, so that I now find myself in condi- 
 tion to go on with my narrative. On the evening of the 9th, 
 when I had closed the first portion of my diary, I thought I 
 woxdd try and draw the inn and post-house on the Brenner, 
 just as it stood. My attempt was unsuccessful, for I missed 
 the character of the place ; I went home therefore in somewhat 
 of an ill-humor. Mine host asked me if I would not depart, 
 telling me it was moon-light and the best travelling. Although 
 I knew perfectly well that, as he wanted his horses early in 
 the morning to carry in the after-crop {Grummet), and wished 
 to have them home again in time for that purpose, his ad\4ce 
 was given with a view to his own interest. I nevertheless 
 took it, because it accorded with my own inclination. The 
 sun reappeared, the afr was tolerable, I packed up, and started 
 about 7 o'clock. The blue atmosphere triumphed over the 
 clouds, and the evening was most beautiful. 
 
 The postilion feU asleep, and the horses set off at a qmck 
 trot doAvn-hill, always taking the well-known route. When 
 they came to a village they went somewhat slower. Then 
 the driver would wake up, and give them a fresh stimulus, 
 and thus we descended at a good pace with high rocks on both 
 sides of us, or by the banks of the rapid river Etsch. 'The 
 moon arose and shed her light upon the massive objects 
 around. Some mills, which stood between prima;val pine- 
 trees, over the foaming stream, seemed really everlasting. 
 
 ^Vhen, at 9 o'clock, I had reached Sterzingen, they gave me 
 clearly to understand, that they wished me off again. Arriving 
 in Mittelwald, exactly at 12 o'clock, I found everybody asleep
 
 252 XEXTEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 except the postilion, and we were obliged to go on to Brixen, 
 where I was again taken off in like manner, so that at the dawn 
 of day I was in Colman. The postilions drove so fast that there 
 ■vas neither seeing nor hearing, and although I could not help 
 Deing sorry at travelling through tliis noble coimtry with 
 such frightful rapidity ; and at night, too, as though I was 
 flying the place, I nevertheless felt an inward jo}', that a 
 favorable wind blew behind me, and seemed to hurrj' me 
 towards the object of my wishes. At day-break I perceived 
 the first vineyard. A woman Avith pears and peaches met 
 me, and thus we went on to Teutschen, where I arrived at 
 7 o'clock, and then was again hmried on. After I had 
 again ti-avelled northwards for a while, I at last saw in the 
 bright sunshine the vaUey where Botzen is situated. Sur- 
 rounded by steep and somewhat high mountains, it is open 
 towards the south, and sheltered towards the north by the 
 Tyrolese range. A mild, soft air pervaded the spot. Here 
 tile Etsch again winds towards the south. The hiUs at the 
 foot of the momitain are cultivated with vines. The vinestocks 
 are trained over long but low arbourwork : the pm-ple grapes 
 are gracefuUy suspended from the top, and ripen in the 
 warmth of the soil, which is close beneath them. In the 
 bottom of the valley, which for the most part consists of nothing 
 but meadows, the vine is cidtivated in naiTow rows of similar 
 festoons, at a little distance from each other, while between 
 grows the Indian corn, the stalks of which at this time are 
 high. I have often seen it ten feet liigh. The fibrous' male 
 blossom is not yet cut off, as is the case when fructification 
 has ceased for some time. 
 
 I came to Botzen in a bright sunshine. A good assem- 
 blage of mercantile faces pleased me much. Everj^vhere one 
 sees the liveHest tokens. An existence full of purpose, and 
 highly comfortable. In the square some fruit-women were 
 sitting with round flat baskets, above four feet in diameter, in 
 which peaches were arranged side by side, so as to avoid 
 pressure. Here I thought of a verse, which I had seen 
 ■written on the window of the inn at Ratisbon : 
 
 Comme les peches et les melons 
 Sont pour la bouche d"un Baron, 
 ^•\insi les verges et les batons 
 Sont pour les fous, dit Salomon.
 
 BOTZEK — TKENT. 253 
 
 It is obvious that this was written by a northern baron, and 
 no less clear is it that if ho were in this country, he would 
 alter his notions. 
 
 At the Botzeu fair a brisk silk-trade is carried on. Cloths 
 are also brought here, and as much leather as can be procured 
 from the mountain districts. Several merchants, however, 
 came chiefly for the sake of depositing their money, taking 
 orders, and opening new credits. I felt I could have taken 
 great delight in examining the various products that were 
 collected here; but the impulse, the state of disquiet, which 
 keeps urging me from behind, would not let me rest, and I 
 must at once hasten from the spot. For my consolation, 
 however, the whole matter is printed in the statistical papers, 
 and we can, if we require it, get such instructions from 
 books. I have now to deal only with the sensible impres- 
 sions, which no book or picture can give. In fiict, I am again 
 taking interest in the world, I am testing my faculty of obser- 
 vation, and am trying how far I can go Mith my science 
 and my acquirements, how far my eye is clear and sharp, ho\s' 
 m.uch I can take in at a hasty glance, and whether those 
 wrinkles, that are imprinted upon my heart, are ever again 
 to be obliterated. Even in these few days, the circumstance 
 that I have had to wait upon myself, and have always been 
 obliged to keep my attention and presence of mind on the 
 alert, has given me quite a new elasticity of intellect. I must 
 now busy myself with the currency, must change, pay, note 
 down, write, while I formerly did nothing but think, will, 
 reflect, command, and dictate. 
 
 From Botzen to Trent the stas-e is nine leagues and runs 
 through a vaUey, which constantly increases in fertility. All 
 that merely struggles into vegetation on the higher moun- 
 tains, has here more strength and vitality; the sun shines 
 with warmth, and there is once more belief in a Deity. 
 
 A poor woman ci-ied out to me to take her child into my 
 vehicle, as the hot soil was burning its feet. I did her this 
 little service out of honovu- to the strong light of heaven. I'he 
 child was strangely decked out, but I could get nothing 
 from it in any way. 
 
 The Etsch flows more gently in these parts, and it 
 makes broad deposits of gravel in many places. On the land, 
 near the river and up the hills, the planting is so thick and 
 close, that one fancies one thing Avill suffocate the other. It 
 
 o
 
 254 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 is a reg\ilar thicket of \ineyards, maize, mulbeny trees, apples, 
 pears, quinces, and nuts. The danewort {Attig) thrives luxu- 
 riantly on the walls. Ivy Avith solid stems runs up the rocks, 
 on which it spreads itself; the lizards glide through the 
 interstices, and whatever has life or motion here, reminds one 
 of the most charming works of art. The braided top-knots of 
 the women, the bared breasts and light jackets of the men, 
 the fine oxen which you see driven home fi-om market, the 
 laden asses, — all combine to produce one of Heinrich Roos's 
 animated pictm-es. And when evening draws on, and through 
 the calmness of the air, a few clouds rest upon the mountains, 
 rather standing than ruiming against the sky, and, as imme- 
 diately after simset, the chirp of the grasshoppers begins to 
 grow loud, one feels quite at home in the world, and not a 
 mere exile. I am as reconciled to the place as if I were bom 
 and bred in it, and had now just retm-ned fi-om a whaling 
 expedition to Greenland. Even the dust, which here as ia 
 our fatherland often plays about my wheels, and which has 
 so long remained strange to me, I welcome as an old friend. 
 The bell-like voice of the ciicket is most piercing, and far 
 from impleasant. A cheerful efiect is produced, when plaj^ul 
 boys whistle against a field of such singers, and you almost 
 fancy that the soimd on each side is raised by emulation. The 
 evening here is perfectly mild no less than the day. 
 
 If any one who lived in the South, or came from the South, 
 heard my enthusiasm about these matters, he would consider 
 me very childish. Ah, what I express here, I long ago was 
 conscious of, Avhile rufiiing under an unkindly sky; and now 
 I love to experience as an exception the happiuess which I 
 hope soon to enjoy as a regidar natm-al necessity. 
 
 Trent, the evening of the lOth Sept. 
 I have wandered about the city, which has an old, not to 
 say a very primitive look, though there are new and well-built 
 houses in some of the streets. In the chiu'ch there is a picture 
 in which the assembled council of the Jesuits is represented, 
 listening to a sermon delivered by the general of the order. I 
 shoiild like to know what he is tiying to palm upon them. The 
 chvirch of these fathers may at once be recognised from the outside 
 by pilasters of red marble on the facade. The doors are covered 
 by a heavy curtain, which serves to keep ofi" the dust. I raised
 
 TKENT. 255 
 
 it. and entered a small vestibule. The church itself is parted 
 off by an iron grating, but so that it can be entirely overlooked. 
 All was as silent as the gi-ave, for divine service is no longer 
 performed here. The front door stood open, merely because 
 all churches must be open at the time of Vespers. 
 
 While I stood considering the architect"iire, which was, I 
 found, similar to other Jesuit chm'ches, an old man stepped in, 
 and at once took off his little black cap. His old faded black 
 coat indicated that he was a needy priest. He knelt down 
 before the grating, and rose again after a short prayer. When 
 he turned round, he said to himself half-aloud : "• Well, they 
 have driven out the Jesuits, but they ought to have paid them 
 the cost of the church. I know how many thousands were 
 spent on the church and the seminary." As he uttered this 
 he left the spot, and the curtain fell behind him. I, however, 
 lifted it again, and kept myself quiet. He remained a while 
 standing on the topmost step, and said: "The Emperor did 
 not do it; the Pope did it." With his face turned towards 
 the street, so that he could not observe me, he continued: 
 *' First tlie Spaniards, then we, then the French. The blood 
 of Abel cries out against his brother Cain!" And thus he 
 went down the steps and along the street, still talking to him- 
 self. I should conjecture he is one who, having been main- 
 tained by the Jesuits, has lost his wits in consequence of the 
 ti-emendous fall of the order, and now comes eveiy day to 
 search the empty vessel for its old inhabitants, and, alter a 
 short prayer, to pronounce a curse upon their enemies. 
 
 A young man, whom I questioned about the remarkable 
 sights in the to^\^l, showed me a house, which is called the 
 " Devil's house," because the devil, who is generally too 
 ready to destroy, is said to have built it in a single night, with 
 stones rapidly brought to the spot. However, what is really 
 remarkable about the house, the good man had not observed, 
 namely, that it is the only house of good taste that I have yet 
 seen in Trent, and was certainly built by some good Italian, 
 at an eai-lier period. At 5 o'clock in the evening I again set 
 off. The spectacle of yesterday evening was repeated, and 
 at sun-set the gi-asshoppers again began to sing. For about 
 a league the journey lies between w;dls, above which the 
 grape-espaliers are visible. Other walls, which are not high 
 enough, have been eked out with stones, thorns, &c., to 
 prevent passengers from plucking off the grapes. Many
 
 256 LETTEKS FROxM ITALY. 
 
 owners sprinkle the foremost rows with lime, which renders 
 the grapes uneatable, but does not hurt the wine, as the nro- 
 cess of fermentation drives out the heterogeneous matter. 
 
 Evening of September 1 1 . 
 I am now at Roveredo, where a marked distinction of lan- 
 guage begins ; hitherto, it has fluctuated between German and 
 Italian. I have now, for the first time, had a thoroughly 
 Italian postilion, the inn-keeper does not speak a word of 
 German, and I must put my own linguistic powers to the 
 test. How delighted I am that the language I have always most 
 loved now becomes living — the language of common usage. 
 
 Torhole, \1th September {after dinner). 
 
 How much do I wish that my friends were with me for a 
 moment to enjoy the prospect, which now lies before my eyes;. 
 
 I might have been in 'N^erona this evening but a magnificent 
 natural phenomenon was in my vicinity — Lake Garda, a splen- 
 did spectacle, which I did not want to miss, and now I am 
 nobly rewarded for taking this circuitous route. After 5 o'clock 
 I started from Roveredo, up a side vaUey, which still pours its 
 Avaters into the Etsch. After ascending this, you come to an 
 immense rocky bar, which you must cross in descending to the 
 lake. Here appeared the finest calcareous rocks for pictorial 
 study. On descending you come to a little village on the 
 northern end of the lake, with a little port, or rather landing- 
 place, which is called Torbole. On my way upwards I was con- 
 stantly accompanied by fig-trees, and, descending into the rocky 
 atmosphere, I foimd the first olive-tree full of fruit. Here 
 also, for the first time, I foimd as a common fruit those little 
 white figs, which the Countess Lanthieri had promised me. 
 
 A door opens from the chamber in which I sit into the 
 com-t-yard below. Before this I have placed my table, and 
 taken a rough sketch of the prospect. The lake may be seen 
 for its whole length, and it is only at the end, towards the 
 left, that it vanishes from oiur eyes. The shore, which is 
 inclosed on both sides by hill and moimtain, shines with a 
 countless number of little hamlets. 
 
 After midnight the wind blows from north to south, and he 
 who wishes to go down the lake must travel at this time, for 
 a few hours before sunset the cun-ent of air changes, and 
 moves northward. At this time, the afternoouj it blows strongly
 
 XAGO ])! GAKDA. 257 
 
 ii gainst mo, and pleasantly qualifies the biuning heat of the 
 sun. Volkniann teaches me that this lake was formerly called 
 " Eenacus," and quotes from Vii-gil a line in which it was 
 mentioned: 
 
 " Fluctibus et fremiter resonans. Eenace, niarino." 
 
 This is the first Latin verse, the subject of which ever stood 
 visibly before me, and now, in the present moment, when the 
 wind is blowing stronger and stronger, and the lake casts 
 loftier billows against the little harbom-, it is just as tiiie as it 
 was hundreds of years ago. Much, indeed, has changed, but 
 the wind still roars about the lake, the aspect of which gains 
 even greater glory from a line of Vu'girs. 
 
 ITie above was ^vl•itten in a latitude of 45° 50'. 
 
 I went out for a walk iu the cool of the evening, and now I 
 really find myself in a new country, surrounded by objects 
 entirely strange. The people lead a careless, sauntering life. 
 In the first place, the doors are •without locks, but the host 
 assured me that I might be quite at ease, even though all I 
 had about me consisted of diamonds. In the second place, 
 the windows arc covered with oiled paper instead of glass. In 
 the third place, an extremely necessary convenience is want- 
 ing, so that one comes pretty close to a state of nature. 
 "When I asked the Avaitcr for a certain place, he pointed 
 <lown into the court-yard: "Qui, abasso puo servirsi!'' 
 ''Dove?" asked I. ''Da per tutto. dove -v-uol," was the 
 friendly reply. The greatest carelessness is ^-isible every- 
 Avhero, but still there is life and bustle enough. During^ 
 the whole day there is a constant chattering and shrieking of 
 the female neighbors, all have something to do at the same 
 time. I have not yet seen an idle woman. 
 
 The host, with Italian emphasis, assured me. that he felt 
 great pleasure in being able to serve me with the finest trout. 
 They are taken neai- Torbole, where the stream fiows down 
 from the mountains, and the fish seeks a passage upwards. 
 The Emperor farms this fishery for 10.000 gulden. The fish, 
 which are large, often weighing fifty pounds, and spotted over 
 the whole body to the head, are not trout, properly so called. 
 'Jlic flavour, which is between that of trout and salmon, is 
 delicate and excellent. 
 
 Vol. II. a
 
 258 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 But my real delight is in the firiit. — ^in the figs, and in the 
 pears, •which must, indeed, be excellent, where citrons are 
 already growing. 
 
 Evening of September 13. 
 
 At 3 o'clock this morning I started fi-om Torbole, with a 
 couple of rowers. At first the wind was so favorable that we 
 put up a sail. The morning was cloudy but fine, and perfectly 
 calm at day-break. We passed Limona, the moimtain-gar- 
 dens of which, laid out terrace-fashion, and planted with 
 citron-trees, have a neat and rich appearance. The v.'hole 
 garden consists of rows of square white pillars placed at some 
 distance from each other, and rising up the mountain in steps. 
 On these pillars strong beams are laid, that the trees planted 
 between them may be sheltered in the winter. The view 
 of these pleasant objects was favored by a slow passage, 
 and we had ah-eady passed Malsesine when the wind sud- 
 denly changed, took the direction usual in the day-time, and 
 blew towards the north. Rowing was of little use against this 
 superior power, and, therefore, we were forced to land in 
 the harbour of Malsesine. This is the first Venetian spot on 
 the eastern side of the lake. When one has to do with water 
 we cannot say, " I will be at this or that particular place to- 
 day." I will make my stay here as useful as I can, e-speciaUv 
 by making a drawing of the castle, which lies close to the 
 water, and is a beautiful object. As I passed along I took a 
 sketch of it. 
 
 Sept. nth. 
 The Aviiid, which blew against me yesterday, and drove me 
 into the harbour of Malsesine, was the cause of a perilous 
 adventure, which I got over with good humour, and the re- 
 membrance of w hich I still find amusing. According to my 
 plan, I went early in the morning into the old castle, which 
 having neither gate nor guard, is accessible to everj'body. 
 Entering the court-yard, I seated myself opposite to the old 
 tower, which is built on and among the rocks. Here I had 
 selected a very convenient spot for drawing; — a carved stone 
 seat in the wall, near a closed door, raised some three or foiu 
 feet high, such as we also find in the old buildings in our own 
 country.
 
 AN INCIDEXT AT UAXSESIXi:. 259 
 
 I had not sat long before several persons entered the yard, 
 and walked backwards and forwards, looking at me. The mul- 
 titude increased, and at last so stood as completely to surround 
 me. I remarked that my drawing had excited attention; 
 however, I did not allovv^ myself to be disturbed, but quietly 
 continued my occupation. At last a man, not of the most 
 prepossessing appearance, came up to me, and asked me what 
 I was about. I replied that I was copying the old tower, 
 that I might have some remembrance of Malsesine. lie said 
 that this was not allowed, and that I must leave off. As he 
 said this in the common Venetian dialect, so that I under- 
 stood him with difficulty, I answered, that I did not understand 
 him at all. With true Italian coolness he took hold of my 
 paper, and tore it, at the same time letting it remain on the 
 pasteboard. Here I observed an air of dissatisfoction among 
 the by-standers ; an old woman in particular said that it was 
 not right, but that the podesta ought to be called, who was 
 the best judge of such matters. I stood upright on the steps, 
 having my back against the door, and surveyed the assembly, 
 which was continually increasing. The fixed eager glances, 
 the good humoured expression of most of the faces, and all 
 the other characteristics of a foreign mob, made the most 
 amusing impression upon me. I fancied that I could see 
 before me the chorus of birds, which, as Treufreimd, I had 
 often laughed at, in the Ettcrsbm-g theatre. This put me in 
 excellent humour, and when the podesta came up with his 
 actuarj', I greeted him in an open manner, and when he asked 
 me why I was drawing the fortification, modestly replied, that 
 I did not look upon that wall as a fortification. I called the 
 attention of him and the people to the decay of the towers and 
 walls, and to the generally defenceless position of the place, 
 assuring him that I thought I only saw and drew a ruin. 
 
 I was answered thus: " If it was only a ruin, what could 
 there be remarkable about it?" As I wished to gain time 
 and favour, I replied very circumstantially, that they must 
 be v.ell aware how many travellers visited Italy, for tlie sake 
 of the ruins only, that Rome, the metro})clis of the world, 
 having suffered the depredations of barbarians, M'as now full 
 of ruins, which had been drawn hundreds of times, and that 
 all the works of antiquity were not in such good preservation 
 as the amphitheatre at Verona, which I hoped soon to see. 
 
 s 2
 
 260 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 The podesta, -svho stood before me, though in a less elevated 
 position, was a tall niau, not exactly thin, of about thirty 
 vcars of ago. The flat features of his spiritless fiice perfectly 
 accorded with the slow constrained manner, in Avhich he put 
 his questions. Even the actuary, a sharp little feUow, seemed 
 as if he did not know what to make of a case so new, and so 
 unexpected. I said a great deal of the same sort ; the people 
 seemed to take my remarks good naturedly, and on turning 
 towards some kindly female faces, I thought I could read 
 assent and approval. 
 
 When, however, I mentioned the amphitheatre at Verona, 
 which in this country, is called the " Arena," the actuary, 
 who had in the meanwhile collected himself, replied, that this 
 was all very weU, because the edifice in question was a Roman 
 building, famed throughout the world. In these towers, how- 
 ever, there was nothing remarkable, excepting that they marked 
 the boundary between the Venetian domain and Austrian 
 Empire, and therefore espionage could not be allowed. I 
 answered by explaining at some length, that not only the 
 Great and Roman aritiquities, but also those of the Middle- 
 Ages were worth attention. They could not be blamed, I 
 granted, if, having been accustomed to this building from 
 their youth upwards, they could not discern in it so many 
 picturesque beauties as I did. Fortmiately the morning sun, 
 shed the most bea\itiful lustre on the tower, rocks, and waUs, 
 and I began to describe the scene with enthusiasm. My 
 audience, however, had these much lauded objects behind them, 
 and as they did not wish to txu'n altogether away from me, 
 they all at once twisted their heads, like the birds, which we 
 call " -svry necks"' (Wendehalse), that they might see with 
 their eyes, what I had been lauding to their ears. Even the 
 podesta turned round towards the picture I had been describ- 
 ing, though -with more dignity than the rest. This scene 
 appeared to me so ridiculous that my good humom* increased, 
 and I spared them nothing — least of all, the i\y, wliich had 
 been suffered for ages to adorn the rocks and walls. 
 
 The actuary retorted, that this was all very good, but the 
 Emperor Joseph was a troublesome gentleman, who certainly 
 entertained many evil designs against Venice ; and I might 
 probably have been one of his subjects, appointed by him, to 
 act as a spy on the borders.
 
 AN INCIDEXX AT MALSESINE. 261 
 
 "Far from belonging to the Emperor," I replied, "lean 
 boast, as well as you, that I am a citizen of a republic, which 
 also governs itself, but Avhich is not, indeed, to be compared 
 for power and greatucss to the illustrious state of Venice, 
 although in commercial activity, in wealth, and in the wisdom 
 of its rulers, it is inferior to no state in Germany. I am a 
 native of Frankfort-on-thc-Main, a city, the name and fame 
 of which has doubtless readied you."' 
 
 " Of Frankfort-on-the-Main ! " cried a pretty young woman, 
 "then, Mr. Podesta, you can at once see all about the 
 foreigner, whom I look upon as an honest man. Let Gre- 
 gorio be called ; he has resided there a long time, and wdll be 
 the best judge of the matter."' 
 
 The kindly faces had already increased around me, the first 
 adversary had vanished, and when Gregorio came to the spot, 
 the whole aflFair took a decided turn in my favor. He was a man 
 upwards of fifty, with one of those well-known Italian faces. 
 Pie spoke and conducted himself like one, who feels that 
 something foreign is not foreign to him, and told me at once 
 that he had seen service in Bolongari's house, and would be 
 delighted to hear from me something about this family and 
 the city in general, which had left a pleasant impression in 
 his mcmorj'. Fortunately his residence at Franldbrt had 
 been dui-ing my yomiger years, and I had the double advan- 
 tage of being able to say exactly how matters stood in his 
 time, and what alteration had taken place afterwards. I told 
 him about all the Italian fomilies, none of whom had remained 
 unknown to me. With many particulars he Avas highly 
 delighted, as, for instance, with the fact that Herr Alessiua 
 had celebrated his "golden wedding,"*~in the year 1771, and 
 that a medal had been struck on the occasion, which Mas in 
 my possession. He remembered that the wife of this wealthy 
 merchant was by birth a Brentano. I could also tell him 
 something about the children and grand-children of these 
 families, how they had growni up, and had been provided for 
 and married, and had multiplied themselves in their des- 
 cendants. 
 
 When I had given tlie most accurate information about 
 almost everything which he asked, his features alternately 
 
 * The fiftieth anniversary of a wedding-day is so called in Germany, 
 
 TkAN3.
 
 262 XEITEES FEOM ITALY. 
 
 expressed cheerfulness and solemnity. He was pleased and 
 touched, while the people cheered up more and more, and 
 could not hear too much of oiu* conversation, of which — it 
 must be confessed — ^he was obliged to translate a part into 
 their o%\ti dialect. 
 
 At last he said : "Podesta, I am convinced that this is a 
 good, accomplished, and well-educated gentleman, who is 
 travelling about to acquire instruction. Let him depart in a 
 friendly manner, that he may speak well of us to his fellow- 
 countrymen, and induce them to visit Malsesine, the beautiful 
 situation of which is well worthy the admiration of foreigners. 
 I gave additional force to these friendly words by praising the 
 comitry, the situation, and the inhabitants, not forgetting to 
 mention the magistrates as wise and prudent personages. 
 
 This was weU received, and I had permission to visit the 
 place at pleasm-e, in company with Master Gregorio. TIio 
 landlord, with whom 1 had put up, now joined us, and was 
 delighted at the prospect of the foreign guests, who would 
 crowd upon him, when once the advantages of Malsesine were 
 properly known. With the most lively curiosity he examined 
 my vai'ious articles of dress, but especially envied me the pos- 
 session of a little pistol, which sUpped conveniently into the 
 pocket. He congratulated those who could carry such pretty 
 weapons, this being forbidden in his countiy under the 
 severest penalties. This friendly but obtrusive personage 
 I sometimes interrupted to thank my deliverer. "Do not 
 thank me," said honest Gregorio, "for you owe me nothing. 
 If the Podesta had understood his business, and the Actuary 
 had not been the most selfish man in the world, you would 
 not have got off so easily. The foi-mer was still more puzzled 
 than you, and the latter would have pocketed nothing by your 
 arrest, the information, and your removal to Verona. This 
 he rapidly thought over, and you were akeady free, before 
 oui- dialogue was ended." 
 
 Towards the evening the good man took me into his vine- 
 yard, which was very well situated, do\vn along the lake. We 
 were accompanied by his son, a lad of fifteen, who was forced 
 to climb the trees, and pluck me the best fruit, while the old 
 man looked out for the ripest grapes. 
 
 While thus placed between these two kindhearted people, 
 both strange to the world, alone, as it were, in the deep soH-
 
 lAGO DI GAEDA. 263 
 
 tude of the earth, I felt, in the most lively manner, as I 
 reflected on the day's adventure, what a whimsical being Man 
 is — how the very thing, which in company he might enjoy 
 with ease and secm-ity, is often rendered troublesome and dan- 
 gerous, from his notion, that he can appropriate to himself the 
 world and its contents after his own peculiar fashion. 
 
 Towards midnight my host accompanied me to the barque, 
 carrying the basket of fruit with which Grcgorio had presented 
 me, and thus, with a favorable wind, I lelt the shore, which 
 had promised to become a Lsestrygonicum shore to me. 
 
 And now for my expedition on the lake. It ended happily, 
 after the noble aspect of the water, and of the adjacent shore 
 of Brescia had refreshed my very heai-t. On the western side, 
 where the mountains cease to be perpendicular, and near the 
 lake, the land becomes more flat, Garignano, Bojaco, Cecina, 
 Toscolan, Madcrno, Verdom, and Salo, stand all in a roAv, and 
 occupy a reach of about a league and a half; most of them 
 being built in long streets. No words can express the beauty 
 of this richly inhabited spot. At 10 o'clock in the morning I 
 landed at Bartolino, placed my luggage on one mule and my- 
 self on another. The road went now over a ridge, which 
 sej)arates the valley of the Etsch from the hollow of the lake. 
 The primaeval waters seem to have driven against each other 
 from both sides, in immense currents, and to have raised this 
 colossal dam of gravel. A fertile soil was deposited upon the 
 gravel at a quieter period, but the labourer is constantly annoyed 
 by the appearance of the stones on the surface. Every efibrt is 
 made to get rid of them, they are piled in rows and layers one on 
 another, and thus a sort of thick wall is formed along the path. 
 The mulberry-trees, from a want of moisture, have a dismal 
 appearance at this elevation. Springs there are none. From 
 time to time puddles of collected rain-water may be found, 
 with which the mules and even their drivers quench their 
 thirst. Some wheels are placed on the river beneath, to 
 water, at pleasure, those plantations that have a lower situa- 
 tion. 
 
 The magnificence of the new country, which opens on you 
 as you descend, surpasses description. It is a garden a mde 
 long and broad, which lies quite flat at the foot of tall moim- 
 tains and steep rocks, and is as neatly laid out as possible
 
 264 LETTERS FROM ITA.LT. 
 
 By this way, about 1 o'clock on the 10th of September, I 
 reached Verona, where I first \vrite this, finish, and put toge- 
 ther the first part of my diary, and indulge in the pleasing 
 hope of seeing the amphitheatre in the evening. 
 
 Concerning the weather of these days I have to make the 
 following statement: — The night fi-omthe 9th to the 10th was 
 alternately clear and cloudy, the moon had always a halo 
 round it. Towards 5 o'clock in the morning all the sky was 
 overcast with gray, not hea^')■ clouds, which vanished with the 
 advance of day. The more I descended the finer was thy 
 weather. As at Botzen the great mass of the moimtains took a 
 northerly situation, the air displayed quite another quality. 
 From the diff'erent grounds in the landscape, which were 
 separated from each other in the most picturesque manner, by 
 a tint more or less blue, it might be seen, that the atmosphere 
 M'as full of vapors equally distributed, M'hich it was able to 
 sustain, and which, therefore, neither fell in the shape of dew. 
 nor were collected in the form of clouds. As I descended 
 further I could plainly observe, that all the crdialations from 
 the Botzen valley, and all the streaks of cloud which ascended 
 from the more southern mountains, moved towards the higher 
 northern regions, which they did not cover, but veiled with a 
 kind of yellow fog. In the remotest distance, over the moun- 
 tains, I coidd observe what is called a "water-gull." To the 
 south of Botzen they have had the finest weather all the sum- 
 mer, only a little icater (they say aqua to denote a light rain), 
 from time to time, and then a retmn of sxmshinc. Yesterday 
 a few drops occasionally fell, and the sun thi'oughout continued 
 shining. They have not had so good a year for a long while ; 
 everything turns out weU ; the bad weather they have sent 
 to us. 
 
 I mention but slightly the moimtains and the species of 
 stone, since Ferber's travels to Italy, and Hacquet's jomrney 
 along the Alps, give sufficient information respecting this 
 district. A quarter of a league from the Brenner, there is a 
 marble quarry, which I passed at t-nilight. It may, nay, must 
 lie upon mica-slate as on the other side. This I found near 
 Colman, just as it dawned; lower down there was an appear- 
 ance of porph}Ty. The rocks were so magnificent, and the 
 heaps were so conveniently broken up along the highway, that 
 a " Voigt' cabinet might have been made and packed up at
 
 FBOM BKENNEU TO VERONA. 265 
 
 once. Without any trouble of that kind I can take a piece, 
 if it is only to accustom my eyes and my cmiosity to a small 
 quantity. A little below Colman, I found some porphpy, 
 which splits into regular plates, and between Brandrol and Neu- 
 mark some of a similar kind, in which, however, the laminae 
 separated in pillars. Ferber considered them to be volcanic 
 productions, bvit that was fourteen years ago, -when all the 
 world had its head on fire. Even Ilacquet ridicides the 
 notion. 
 
 Of the people I can say but little, and that is not very 
 iavorable. On my descent froni the Brenner, I discovered, 
 as soon as day came, a decided change of form, and was 
 particularly displeased by the pale brownish complexion of 
 the women. Their features indicated vii-etchedness, the chil- 
 dren looked e(]^ually miserable ; — the men somewhat better. 
 I imagine that the cause of this sickly condition may be 
 found in the frequent consumption of Indian corn and buck- 
 ■wheat. Both the former, which they also call " Yellow 
 Blende,"' and the latter, vthich is called " Black Blende," 
 is gi'ound, made into a thick pap with water, and thus eaten. 
 The Gennans on this side, puU out the dough, and fry it in 
 butter. The Italian Tyrolese, on the contrary, cat it just as 
 it is, often with scrapings of cheese, and do not taste meat 
 throughout the year. This necessarily glues up and stops the 
 alimentary channels, especially with the women and children, 
 and their cachectic complexion is an indication of the malady. 
 They also eat fruit and green beans, which they boil down in 
 water, and mix with oil and garlic. I asked if there were no 
 rich peasants. " Yes, indeed," was the reply. " Don't they 
 indidge themselves at all? don't they eat anything better?" 
 "No, they are used to it." '• What do they do "with their 
 money then? how do they lay it out?"' " Oli. they have 
 their ladies, who relieve them of that.'* This is the siuu 
 and substance of a conversation with mine host's daughter at 
 Botzen. 
 
 I also learned from her, that the vine-tillers were the worst 
 ofi', although they appeared to be the most opulent, for they 
 were in the hands of commercial towns-people, who advanced 
 them enough to support life in the bad seasons, and in winter 
 took their wine at a low price. However, it is the same 
 thing everywhere.
 
 266 XETTEKS PEOSr ITALY. 
 
 My opinion concerning the food is confirmed by the fact, 
 that the "women who inhabit the towns appeal- better and 
 better. They have pretty plimip girlish faces, the body is 
 somewhat too short in proportion to the stoutness, and the 
 size of the head, but sometimes the countenances have a most 
 agroable expression. The men we ah-eady know thiough the 
 wandering Tyrolese. In the country their appearance is less 
 fresh than that of the women, perhaps because the latter have 
 more bodily labour, and are more in motion, while the former 
 sit at home as traders and workmen. By the Garda Lake I 
 found the people very brown, without the slightest tinge of 
 red in their cheeks; however they did not look unhealthy, 
 but quite fresh and comfortable. Probably the burning sim- 
 beams, to which they are exposed at the foot of their moun- 
 tains, are the cause of their complexion. 
 
 FROM \^RONA TO VENICE. 
 
 Verona, Sept. 16th. 
 
 Wem, then, the amphitheatre is the first important monu- 
 ment of the old times that I have seen — and how well it is 
 preserved! When I entered, and still more when I waUvcd 
 roimd the edge of it at the top, it seemed strange to me, that I 
 saw something great, and yet, properly speaking, saw nothing. 
 Besides I do not like to see it empty, I should like to see it 
 full Oi people, just as, in modem times, it was filled up in 
 honom- of Joseph I. and Pius VI. The Emperor, although 
 liis eye was accustomed to human masses, must have been 
 astonished. But it was only in the earliest times, that it 
 produced its full effect, when the people was more a people 
 than it is now. For, properly speaking, such an amphitheatre 
 is constructed to give the people an imposing view of itself,— 
 to cajole itself. 
 
 When an}i;hing worth seeing oceiu's on the level ground, 
 and any one runs to the spot, the hindermost try by every 
 means to raise themselves above the foremost; they get 
 upon benches, roil casks, bring up vehicles, lay planlis in every 
 direction, occupy the neighbouring heights, and a crater is 
 formed in no time.
 
 VEKONA. 267 
 
 If the spectacle occm- frequently on the same spot, light 
 scaffoldings are built for those who are able to pay, and the 
 rest of the multitude must get on as it can. Here the problem 
 of the architect is to satisfy this general want. By means of 
 his art he prepares such a crater, making it as simple as possible, 
 that the people itself may constitute the decoration. When the 
 populace saw itself so assembled, it must have been astonished 
 at the sight, for whereas it was only accustomed to see itself 
 Tunning about in confusion, or to find itself crowded together 
 without particular rule or order, so must this many-headed, 
 many-minded, wandering animal now see itself combined into 
 a noble body, made into a definite unity, bound and secured 
 into a mass, and animated as one form by one mind. The 
 simplicity of the oval is most pleasinglj- obvious to eveiy eye, 
 and every head serves as a measure to show the vastness of the 
 whole. Now we see it empty, we have no standard, and do 
 not know whether it is large or small. 
 
 The Veronese deserve commendation for the high preserva- 
 tion in which this edifice is kept. It is built of a reddish 
 marble, which has been affected by the atmosphere, and hence 
 the steps which have been eaten, are continually restored, and. 
 look almost all new. An inscription makes mention of one 
 Hieronymus Maurigenus, and of the incredible industry, Vv-hich 
 he has expended on this monimient. Of the outer wall only 
 a piece remains, and I doubt whether it was ever quite 
 finished. The lower arches, which adjoin the large square, 
 called " II Bra," are let out to Avorkmen, and tie rcanimation. 
 of these arcades produces a cheerful appearance. 
 
 Verona, Sept. 16. 
 
 The most beautiful gate, which, however, always remains 
 closed, is called "• Porta stupa," or " del Pallio." As a gate, 
 and considering the great distance from which it is first seen, 
 it is not well conceived, and it is not till we come n^ar it, 
 that we recognise the beauty of the structure. 
 
 All sorts of reasons arc given to account for its being closed. 
 I have, however, a conjectm-e of my own. It was manifestly 
 the intention of the artist to cause a new Corso to be laid out 
 from this gate, for the situation, or the present street, is com- 
 pletely wrong. On the left side there is nothing but bajraeks ;
 
 268 LETTERS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 and the line at right angles from the middle of the gate leads to 
 a convent of nuns, which must certainly have come down. 
 This was presently perceived, and besides the rich and higher 
 classes might not have liked to settle in the remote quarter. 
 The ai-tist perhaps died, and therefore the door was closed, 
 and so an end was put to the affiiir. 
 
 J'crona, Sept. IG. 
 
 The portico of the theatre, consisting of six large Ionic 
 columns, looks handsome enough. So much the more puny 
 is the ap{)earance of the jMarchesc di jNIafFei's bust, which as 
 large as life, and in a great wig, stands over the door, and in 
 front of a painted niche, which is supported by two Corinthian 
 columns. The position is honorable, but to be in some degree 
 proportionate to the magnitude and solidity of the columns, 
 the bust shoidd have been colossal. But now placed as it is 
 on a corbel, it has a mean appearance, and i^ by no means 
 in harmony with the whole. 
 
 The gallery, which incloses the forc-com't, is also small, 
 and the channelled Doric dwarfs have a mean appearance by 
 the side of the smooth Ionic giants. But we pardon this dis- 
 crepanej- on account of the fine institution, which has been 
 founded among the columns. Here is kept a number of antiqui- 
 ties, which have mostly been dug up in and about Verona. 
 Somethuig, they say, has even been found in the Amphi- 
 tlieatre. There are Etruscan, Greek, and Roman specimens, 
 down to the latest times, and some even of more modem 
 date. The bas-reliefs are inserted in the walls, and provided 
 with the numbers, wliich Matfei gave them, when he described 
 them in his work : " Verona illustraia." Tliere are altars, 
 fragments of columns, and other relics of the sort; an ad- 
 mirable tripod of white marble, upon which there are genii 
 occupied with the attributes of the gods. Ilixphael has 
 imitated and unproved this kind of tiling in the scroUa of 
 the Famesina. 
 
 The Avind which blows from the graves of the ancients, 
 comes fragrantly over hills of roses. The tombs give touching 
 evidences of a genuine feeling, and always bring life back to 
 us. Here is a man, by the side of his wife, who peeps out of 
 a niche, as if it Avere a wuidow. Here are father and mother.
 
 y VEKONA. 269 
 
 ^vith their son between them, eyeing each other as naturally 
 as possible. Here a couple are grasping each other's hands. 
 Here a father, resting on his couch, seems to be amused by his 
 family. The immediate proximity of these stones was to mc 
 highly touching. They belong to a later school' of art, but 
 are simple, natural, and generally pleasing. Here a man in 
 armour is on liis knees in expectation of a joyful resurrection. 
 With more or less of talent the artist has jiroduced the mere 
 simple presence of the persons, and has thus given a perma- 
 nent continuation to their existence. They do not fold their 
 hands, they do not look towards heaven, but they are here 
 below just what they were and just what they are. They 
 stand together, take interest in each other, love one another, 
 and this is charmingly expressed on the stone, though -with a 
 certain want of technical skill. A marble pillar, very richly 
 adorned, gave me moi'e new ideas. 
 
 Laudable as this institution is, we can plainly perceive that 
 the noble spirit of preservation, by which it was founded, is 
 no longer continued. The valuable tripod will soon be 
 ruined, placed as it is in the open air, and exposed to the 
 weather towards the west. This trcasm-e might casilv be 
 preserved in a wooden case. 
 
 The palace of the Proveditorc. which is begun, might have 
 afforded a fine specimen of architecture, if it had been finished. 
 Generally speaking, the nohili build a great deal, but unfor- 
 tunately every one builds on the site of his former residence, 
 and often, therefore, in narrow lanes. Thus, for instance, a 
 magnificent fagade to a seminary is novv' building in an alley 
 of the remotest suburb. 
 
 While, with a guide, whom I had accidentally picked up, I 
 passed before the great solemn gate of a singular building, he 
 asked me good-humourdly, Avhether I should not like to step 
 into the court for a while. It was the palace of justice, and 
 the court, on account of the height of the building, looked 
 only like an enormous waU. Here, he told me, all the crimi- 
 nals and suspicious persons are confined. I looked around, 
 and saw that round all the stories there were open passages' 
 fitted with iron balustrades, which passed by numerous doors* 
 The prisoner, as he stepped out of his dungeon to be led to
 
 270 BETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 trial, stood in the open air, and was exposed to the gaze of 
 all passers, and because there Avere several ti-ial-rooms, 
 the chains were rattling, now over this, now over that pas- 
 sage, in every story. It was a hateful sight, and I do not 
 deny that the good humour, with which I had dispatched m}' 
 *' Birds," might here have come into a strait. 
 
 I walked at sunset upon the mai'giu of the crater-like am- 
 phitheatre, and enjoyed the most splendid prospect over the 
 town and the surrounding country. I was quite alone, and 
 multitudes of people were passing below me on the hard 
 stones of the Bra; men of all ranks, and women of the middle- 
 ranks were walking. The latter in their black outer garments 
 look, in this bird's-eye view, like so many mummies. 
 
 The Zendale and the Veste, which serves this class in the 
 place of an entire wardrobe, is a costume completely fitted for 
 a people that does not care much for cleanliness, and yet 
 always likes to appear in public, sometimes at church, some- 
 times on the promenade. The Veste is a gown of black 
 taffeta, which is thrown over other gowns. If the lady has a 
 clean white one beneath, she contrives to Uft up the black one on 
 one side. This is fastened on so, as to cut the waist, and to 
 cover the lappets of a corset, which may be of any colour. 
 The Zendale is a large hood with long ears ; the hood itself is 
 kept high above the head by a wire-frame, while the ears are 
 fastened round the body like a scarf, so that the ends fall 
 do%vn behind. 
 
 Vero'iia, Sept. 16. 
 
 ^Ticn I again left the Arena to-day, I came to a modern 
 public spectacle, about a thousand paces from the spot. 
 Four noble Veronese were playing ball against four people of 
 Vicenza. This pastime is carried on among the Veronese 
 themselves all the year round, about two hours before night. 
 On this occasion there was a far larger concourse of people 
 than usual, on account of the foreign adversaries. The specta- 
 tors seem to have amounted to four or five thousand. I did 
 not see women of any rank. 
 
 When, a little while ago, I spoke of the necessities of the 
 multitude in such a case, I described the natural accidental
 
 VEEONA. 271 
 
 amphitlieatre as arising just in the manner, in which I saw 
 the people raised one over another on this occasion. Even at 
 a distance I could hear the lively clapping of hands, which 
 accompanied every important stroke. The game is played as 
 follows : Two boards, slightly inclined, are placed at a con- 
 venient distance from each other. He who strOies off the 
 ball stands at the higher end, his right hand is armed with a 
 broad wooden ring, set with spikes. While another of his 
 party tlii'ows the ball to him, he runs dov/n to meet it, and 
 thus increases the force of the blow with which he strikes it. 
 The adversaries try to beat it back, and thus it goes back- 
 wards and forwards till, at last, it remains on the ground. 
 The most beautiful attitudes, worthy of being imitated in 
 marble, are thus produced. As there are none but Avell- 
 gi-own active young people, in a short, close, white dress, the 
 pai'ties are only distinguished by a yellow mark. Particularly 
 beautiful is the attitude into which the man on the eminence 
 falls, when he runs doAvn the inclined plain, and raises his 
 arm to strike the ball ; — it approaches that of the Borghesian 
 gladiator. 
 
 It seemed strange to me that they carry on this exercise by 
 an old lime-wall, withoiit the slightest convenience for specta- 
 tors; why is it not done in the amphitheatre, where there 
 would be such ample room ? 
 
 Verona, Sqjtemhcr 17. 
 
 Wliat I have seen of pictures I will but briefly touch upon, 
 and add some remarks. I do not make this cxtraordinaxy 
 tour for the sake of deceiving myself, but to become acquainted 
 with rayself by means of these objects. I therefore honestly 
 confess that of the painter's art — of his manipulation, I under- 
 stand but little. My attention, and observation, can only be 
 directed to the practical part, to the subject, and the general 
 treatment of it. 
 
 S. Georgio is a gallery of good pictures, all altar-pieces, 
 and all remarkable, if not of equal value. But what subjects 
 were the hapless artists obliged to paint? And for whom? 
 Perhaps a shower of manna thirty feet long, and twenty feet 
 high, with the miracle of the loaves as a companion. What could 
 be made of these subjects ? Hungry men falling on little grains,
 
 272 XETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 and a countless multitude of others, to wliom bread is handed. 
 The artists have racked their invention in order to get some- 
 thing striking out of such wretched subjects. iVnd yet. 
 stimulated by the urgency of the case, genius has produced 
 some beautiful things. An artist, who had to paint S. Ursula 
 Avith the eleven tliovisand virgins, has got over the difficulty cle- 
 verly enough. The saint stands in the foregi-ound, as if she hai 
 conquered tlie country. She is very noble, like an Amazonia • 
 virgin, and witliout any enticing charms; on the other hand, 
 her troop is shown descending from the ships, and moving in. 
 procession at a diminishing distance. The Assumption of th« 
 Virgin, by Titian, in the dome, has become much blackened, 
 and it is a thought worthy of praise that, at the moment of her 
 apotheosis, she looks not towards heaven, but towards her 
 friends below. 
 
 In the Gherardini Gallery T found some very fine things by 
 Orbitto, and for the first time became acquainted with this meri- 
 torious artist. At a distance we only hear of the first artists, and 
 then wc are often contented with names only ; but when we 
 diTiW nearer to tliis starry sky, and the luminaries of tlie 
 .second and thii'd magnitude also begin to twinkle, each one 
 poming forward and occupying his proper place in the whole 
 constellation, then the world becomes wide, and art becomes 
 rich. I must here commend the conception of one of the 
 ])ictm-es. Sampson has gone to sleep in the lap of Dalilah, and 
 she has softly stretched her hand over liim to reach a pair of 
 scissors, which lies near the lamp on the table. The execu- 
 tion is admirable. In the Canopa Palace I observed a Dan'ae. 
 
 Tlie Bevilagua Palace contains the most valuable things. A 
 picture by Tintoretto, which is called a " Paradise," but 
 which, in fact, represents the Coronation of the ^'Irgin Mary 
 as Queen of Heaven, In the presence of all the patriarchs, 
 prophets, apostles, saints, angels, &c., affords an opportunity 
 for displaying aU the riches of the most felicitous genius. 
 To admire and enjoy all that eare of manipulation, that spirit 
 and variety of expression. It is necessary to possess the pic- 
 tm-e, and to have it before one all one's life. The painter's 
 work Is caiTied on ad infinitum ; even the farthest angels' heads, 
 which are vanishing In the halo, preserve something of cha- 
 racter. The largest figures may be about a foot high ; Marj-, 
 and the Christ who is crowning her, about four inches. Eye
 
 VESoxA. 273 
 
 is, however, the finest woman in tlic picture; a little volup- 
 tuous, as from time immemorial. 
 
 A couple of portraits by Paul Veronese have only increased 
 my veneration for that ar'ti;-t. The collection of antiquities is 
 veiy fine ; there is a son of Niobe extended in death, which is 
 highly valuable ; and the busts, including an Augustus with 
 the civic crown, a Caligula, and others, arc mostly of great 
 interest, notwithstanding the restoration of the noses. 
 
 It lies in my natm-e to admire, willingly and joyfully, all 
 that is great and beautiful, and the cultivation of this talent, 
 day after day, hour after hour, by the inspection of such beau- 
 tiful objects, produces the happiest feelings. 
 
 In a land, where we enjoy the days but take especial 
 delight in the evenings, the time of nightfall is higlily impor- 
 tant. For now work ceases ; those who have gone out ^^■alk- 
 ing turn back ; the father wishes to have his daughter liome 
 again ; the day has an end. What the day is we Cimmerians 
 hardly know. In our eternal mist and fog it is the same 
 thing to us, whether it be day or night, for how much time 
 can we really pass and enjoy in the open ah- ? Now. when 
 night sets in, the day, which consisted of a morning and an 
 evening, is decidedly past, four and twenty hours are gone, 
 the bells ring, the rosary is taken in hand, and the maid, 
 entering the chamber with the lighted lamp, sajs, " fehcissi- 
 ma notte." This epoch varies with every season, and a man 
 who lives here in actual life cannot go wrong, because all the 
 enjoyments of his existence are regulated not by the nominal 
 hour, but by the time of day. If the people were forced to 
 use a German clock they would be perplexed, for their own 
 is intimately comiected with their natme. About an hour 
 and a half, or an hour before midnight, the nobility begin to 
 ride out. They proceed to the Piazza della Bra, along the 
 long, broad street to the Porta Nuova out at the gate, and 
 along the city, and when night sets in, they aU return home. 
 Sometimes they go to the churches to say their Ave Maria 
 della sera; sometimes they keep on the Bra, where the cava- 
 liers step up to the coaches and converse for a while with the 
 ladies. The foot passengers rcmam till a late hour of night, 
 but I have never stopped till the last. To-day just enough 
 rain had fallen to la^s' the dust, and the spectacle was moet 
 cheerful and animated. 
 
 Vol. II. V
 
 274 I^ETTEKS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 That I may accommodate myself the better to the cxistom of 
 the country I have devised a plan for mastering more easily the 
 Italian method of reckoning the hours. The aceompaning 
 diagram may give an idea of it. The inner circle denotes 
 cm- four and twenty hours, from midnight to midnight, divided 
 into twice twelve, as we reckon, and as our clocks indicate. 
 The middle circle shows how the clocks strike at the present 
 season, namely, as much as twelve twice in the tweuty-foui- 
 hours, but in such a way that it strikes one, when it strikes 
 eight with us, and so on till the number twelve is complete. 
 At eight o'clock in the morning according to our clock it 
 again strikes one, and so on. Finally the outer circle shows 
 how the four and twenty hours are reckoned in actual life. 
 For example, I hear seven o'clock striking in the night, and 
 know that midnight is at five o'clock; I therefore deduct the 
 latter number from the former, and thus have two hours after 
 midnight. If I hear- seven o'clock strike in the day-time, and 
 know that noon is at five, I proceed in the same way, and 
 thus have two in the afternoon. But if I wish to express the 
 hour according to the fashion of this country, I must know 
 that noon is seventeen o'clock ; I add the two, and get nine- 
 teen o'clock. When this method is heard and thought of for 
 the fii'st time, it seems extremely confused and difficult to 
 manage, but we soon grow accustomed to it and find the 
 occupation amusing. The people themselves take delight in 
 this perpetual calculation, just as children are pleased with 
 Easily surmounted difiiculties. Indeed they always have their 
 fingers in the air, make any calculation in theii* heads, and 
 like to occupy themselves with figures. Besides to the 
 inhabitant of the countiy the matter is so much the easier, 
 as he really does not trouble himself about noon and mid- 
 night, and does not, like the foreign resident, compare tvto 
 clocks with each other. They only count from the evening 
 the horns, as they strike, and in the day-time they add the 
 number to the vai-ying number of noon, with which they are 
 acquainted. The rest is explained by the remarks appended 
 to the diagram : —
 
 co:mparative table 
 
 of 
 GERMAN AND ITALIAN TIME, 
 
 WITH THB HOURS OF THE ITALTAN SUN-DIAL FOE, THE jLATTER 
 HALF OF SEPTEMBER. 
 
 MIDDAY. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 The night lengthens half an hour 
 every fortnight. 
 
 Time of ni;tht Midnight 
 Month. Day. as shewn by consequently 
 German clocks, falls about. 
 
 August 
 Sept. 
 October 
 Nov. 
 
 1 
 
 15 
 
 1 
 
 15 
 1 
 
 15 
 1 
 
 15 
 
 8i 
 8 
 
 7 
 
 6 
 
 4 
 
 U 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 6J!r 
 
 7 
 
 From this date the time remains 
 constant and it is : — 
 
 NIGHT. MIDNIGHT. 
 
 Dec. 
 Jan. 
 
 The day lengthens half an hour 
 every fortnight. 
 
 Time of night Midnight 
 Month. Day. as .shewn by consequently 
 Germane ccks. falls about. 
 
 Febr. 
 
 March 
 
 April 
 
 May 
 
 1 
 15 
 
 1 
 15 
 
 1 
 15 
 
 1 
 15 
 
 G 
 
 7 
 
 n- 
 
 8 
 
 8^ 
 
 9 
 
 6* 
 6 
 
 51- 
 5 
 
 4i 
 
 4 
 
 3 
 
 From this date the time remains 
 constant and it is : — 
 
 NIGHT. MIDNIGHT. 
 
 June ] 
 July / 
 
 X 2
 
 27G I,ETTEUS TKOM ITALY. 
 
 Verona, Sept. 17. 
 The people liere jostle one tsnotber actively enough; the 
 narrow streets, where shops and workmen's stalls ai-e thickly 
 crowded together, have a particularly cheerful look. There is 
 no such thing as a door in front of the shop or workroom ; the 
 whole breadth of the house is open, and one ibay see all that 
 passes in the interior. Ilalf-way out into the path, the 
 tailors are sewing; and the cobblers are pulling and rapping; 
 indeed the work-stalls make a part of the street. In the 
 evening, when the lights arc burning, the appearance is most 
 lively. 
 
 The squares are very full on market days : there are fruit 
 and vegetables without number, and garlic and onions to the 
 heart's desire. Then again throughout the day there is a 
 ceaseless screaming, bantering, singing, squaUing, huzzaing, 
 and laughing. The mildness of the air, and the cheapnesis of 
 the food, make subsistence easy. Everj-thing possible is done 
 in the open air. 
 
 At night singing and all sorts of noises begin. The ballad of 
 *'Marlbrook'' is heard in everj- street; — ^then comes a dulcimer, 
 then a violin. They try to' imitate all the birds with a pipe. 
 The strangest soimds are heard on every side. A mild climate 
 can give this exquisite enjo}-ment of mere existence, even to 
 poverty-, and the very shadow of the people seems respectable. 
 The want of cleanliness and convenience, which so much 
 strikes us in the houses, arises from the following cause : — ^the 
 inhabitants are always out of doors, and in their light-hearted- 
 ness think of nothing. With the people all goes right, even 
 the middle-class man just lives on from day to day, while th** 
 rich and genteel shut themselves up in their dwellings, which 
 are not so habitable as in the north. Society is fovmd in the 
 open streets. Fore-courts and colonnades are all soiled with 
 filth, for things are done in the most natural manner. Tlie 
 people always feel their way before them. The rich man 
 may be rich,'and build his palaces ; and the nobile may rule, but 
 if he makes a colonnade or a fore-court, the people will make 
 use of it for their o>vn occasions, and have no more urgent 
 T\nsh than to get rid as soon as possible, of that which they 
 have taken as often as possible. If a person cannot bear thL>*, 
 he must not play the great gentleman, that is to say, he must 
 act as if a part of his dwelling belonged to the public. He
 
 VEROXA — TICEXZA. 277 
 
 may shut his door, and all will be right. Bat in open l:)ui]d- 
 ings the people are not to be debarred of their privileges, and 
 this, throughout Italy, ivS a nuisance to the foreigner. 
 
 To-day I remarked in several streets of the tov\-n, tho 
 customs and manners of the middle-classes especially, who 
 appear very numerous and liusy. They swing their arms as 
 they walk. Persons of a high rank. Mho on certain occa- 
 sions wear a sword, swing only one arm, being accustomed ta 
 liold the left arm still. 
 
 Although the people are cai'elcss enough with respect to 
 their own wants and occupations, they have a keen eye for 
 evorj'thing foreign. Thus in the very first days, I observed 
 that every one took notice of my boots, because here they are 
 too expensive an article of dress to wear even in winter. Now 
 I wear shoes and stockings nobody looks at me. Pai-ticularly 
 I noticed this morning, when all were running about with 
 Howers, vegetables, garlic, and other market-stufi", that a twig 
 of cj^ress, which I carried in my hand, did not escape them. 
 Some green cones hung ujion it, and I held in the same hand 
 some blooming caper-twigs. Everybody, large and small, 
 watched me closely, and seemed to entertain some whimsical 
 thought. 
 
 I brought these twigs from the Giusti garden, Avhich is 
 finely situated, and in which there are monstrous cypresses, 
 all pointed up like spikes into the air. The Taxus, which ia 
 northern gardening we find cut to a sharp point, is probably an 
 imitation of this splendid natural product. A tree, the 
 branches of which, the oldest as well as the youngest, arc 
 striving to reach heaven, — a tree which will hist its three 
 hundred years, is well worthy of veneration. Judging li-om. 
 the time when this garden was laid out, these trees liave 
 already attained that advanced ase. 
 
 Vicenr.o, Sept. 20. 
 Tlie way from Verona hither is very pleasant: we go 
 north-eastwards along the moimtains, always keeping to the 
 left the foremost mountains, which consist of sand, lime, day, 
 and marl; the hills which they foi-m, are dotted with villages, 
 castles, and houses. To the right extends tlie broad plain, 
 along wliich the road goes. The straight broad path, which ia
 
 278 LETXEKS PROM HALT. 
 
 in good preservation, goes through a fertile field; we look 
 into deep avenues of trees, up which the \'ines ai'e trained 
 to a considerable height, and then drop down, like pendant 
 branches. Here we can get an admirable idea of festoons! 
 The grapes are ripe, and are heavy on the tendrils, which hang 
 down long and trembling. The road is filled with people of 
 eveiy class and occupation, and I was particularly pleased by 
 some carts, with low solid wheels, which, with teams of fine 
 oxen, carry the large vats, in which the grapes from the 
 vineyards are put and pressed. The drivers rode in them 
 when they were empty, and the whole was like a triumphal 
 procession of Bacchanals. Between the ranks of vines the 
 ground is used for all sorts of grain, especially Indian corn 
 and millet {Sorgd). 
 
 As one goes towards Vicenza, the hiUs again rise from 
 north to south and enclose the plain; they are, it is said, vol- 
 canic. Vicenza lies at their foot, or if you will, in a bosom 
 which they form. 
 
 Vicenza, Sept. 19. 
 Though I have been here only a few hours, I have already 
 run through the town, and seen the Olympian theatre, and the 
 buildings of Palladio. A very pretty little book is published 
 here, for the convenience of foreigners, with copper-plates and 
 some letter-press, that shows knowledge of art. When once 
 one stands in the presence of these works, one immediately 
 perceives their great value, for they are calculated to fill the 
 eye with their actual greatness and massiveness, and to satisfy 
 the mind by the beautiful harmony of their dimensions, not 
 only in abstract sketches, but with all the prominences and 
 distances of perspective. Therefore I say of I'uiladio : he was 
 a man really and intrinsically great, whose greatness was out- 
 wardly manifested. The chief difficulty with which this man, 
 like all modem architects, had to struggle, was the suitable 
 application of the orders of columns to buildings for domestic 
 or public use ; for there is always a contradiction in the com- 
 bination of columns and walls. But with what success has 
 he not worked them up together ! What an imposing cfiect 
 has the aspect of his edifices : at the sight of them one almost 
 forgets that he is attempting to reconcile us to a violation of
 
 VICENZA. 27.9 
 
 the rules of his art. There is, indeed, something divine 
 about his designs, which may be exactly compared to the crea- 
 tions of the great poet, who, out of truth and falsehood 
 elaborates something betv,een both, and charms us with its 
 borrowed existence. 
 
 The Olympic theatre is a theatre of the ancients, realized 
 on a small scale, and indescribably beautiful. Hovrevcr, com- 
 pared with our theati-es, it reminds me of a genteel, rich, 
 well-bred child, contrasted with a shrewd man of the world, 
 who, though he is neither so rich, nor so genteel, and well- 
 bred, knows better how to employ his resom-ces. 
 
 If we contemplate, on the spot, the noble buildings whicli 
 Palladio has erected, and see how they arc disfigured by the 
 mean filthy necessities of the people, how the plans of most 
 of them exceeded the means of those who undertook them, and 
 how little these precious monuments of one lofty mind are 
 adapted to all else around, the thought occurs, that it is 
 just the same with everything else ; for we receive but little 
 thanks from men, when avc would elevate their internal aspira- 
 tions, give them a great idea of themselves, and make them 
 feel the grandeur of a really noble existence. But when one 
 cajoles them, tells them tales, and helping thom on from day 
 today, makes them worse, then one is just the man they like; 
 and hence it is that modem times take delight in so many 
 absurdities. I do not say this to lower my ii-iends, I only 
 say that they arc so, and that people must not be astonished 
 to find everything just as it is. 
 
 How the Basilica of Palladio looks by the side of an old 
 castellated kind of a building, dotted all over with vi-iiidovrs 
 of dificrent sizes (whose removal, tower and all, the artist 
 evidently contemplated), — it is impossible to describe — and 
 besides I must now, by a strange effort, compress my own 
 feelings, for, I too, alas ! find here side by .side both what I 
 seek and what I fly from. 
 
 Sept. 20. 
 
 Yesterday we had the opera, which l:;stcd till midnight, and 
 
 I was glad to get some rest. The three Suliancsscs and the 
 
 Rape of the Seraglio have afforded several tatters, out of which 
 
 the piece has been patched up, with very little skill. The
 
 2S0 IvETTERS FKOM ITAXY, 
 
 music is agreeable to the ear, but is probably by au amateur ; 
 for not a single thought struck me as being new. The ballets, 
 on the other hand, were charming. The principle pair of 
 dancers executed an Allemcmde to perfection. 
 
 The theatre is new, pleasant, beautiful, modestly magnifi- 
 cent, uniform throughout, just as it ought to be in a provincial 
 town. Every box has hangings of the same color, and the 
 one belonging to the Caintan Grande, is only distinguished 
 from the rest, by the fact that the hangings are somewhat 
 longer. 
 
 The prhna donna, who is a great favorite of the whole peo- 
 ple, is tremendously applauded, on her entrance, and tlie 
 *' gods" are quite obstreperous with their delight, when she 
 does anything remarkably well, which very often happens. 
 Her manners are natural, she has a pretty figm-e, a fine 
 voice, a pleasing countenance, and, above all, a really modest 
 demeanour, while there might be more grace in the arms. 
 However, I am not what I was, I feel that I am spoiled, I am 
 spoiled for a "god."' 
 
 Sept. 21. 
 
 To-day I visited Dr. Tura. Five years ago he passionately 
 devoted himself to the study of plants, formed a herbarium of 
 the Italian flora, and laid out a botanical garden under the 
 superintendence of tlic former bishop. However, all that has 
 come to an end. Medical pi'actice drove away natural 
 history, the hrvbarium is eaten by worms, the bishop is dead, 
 and the botanic garden is again ratiomdly planted with cab- 
 bages and garlic. 
 
 Dr. Tura is a very refined and good man. He told ine his 
 history with frankness, pmity of mind, and modest}-, and 
 altogether spoke in a very definite and affable manner. At 
 the same time he did not like to open his cabinets, which per- 
 haps Avere in no very presentable condition. Our conversa- 
 tion soon came to a stand-still. 
 
 Sept. 21. Evening. 
 I called upon the old architect Scamozzi, who has published 
 an edition of Palladia's buildings, and is a diligent artist, pas- 
 sionately devoted to his art. He gave me some directions,
 
 VICENZA. 281 
 
 being delighted witli my sympathy. -Vmong Palladio"s build- 
 ings there is one, for which I always had an especial predi- 
 lection, and which is said to have been his own residence. 
 When it is seen close, there is far more in it than appears in 
 a picture. I should have liked to draw it, and to illuminate it 
 with colors, to show the material and the age. It must not, 
 however, be imagined that the architect has built himself a 
 ])alace. The house is the most modest in the world, vnih only 
 two windows, separated from each other by a broad space, 
 which would admit a third. If it were imitated in a picture, 
 which should exhibit the neighbom-ing houses at the same 
 time, the spectator would be pleased to observe how it has 
 been let in between them. Canalctto was the man who shoidd 
 have painted it. 
 
 To-day I visited the splendid building which stands on a 
 pleasant elevation about half a league from the tovm, and is 
 called the "Ilotonda." It is a quadrangular building, enclo- 
 sing a cu-cular hall, lighted from the top. On aU the four 
 sides, you ascend a broad flight of steps, and always come to 
 a vestibule, which is formed of six Corinthian columns. Pro- 
 bably the luxury of architecture was never carried to so 
 liigh a point. The space occupied by the steps and vestibules 
 is much larger than that occuj)ied by the house itself; for 
 every one of the sides is as grand and pleasing as the front of 
 a temple. With respect to the inside it may be called 
 habitable, but not comfortable. The hall is of the finest pro- 
 portions, and so are the chambers ; but they would hardly 
 suffice for the actual wants of any genteel family in a sum- 
 mer-resiilcr.ce. On the other hand it presents a most bcau- 
 tiiul appearance, as it is viewed on every side throughout 
 tlie district. The variety which is produced by the ])rincipal 
 mass, as, together with the projecting columns, it is gradually 
 brought before the eyes of the spectator who walks found 
 it, is very great : and the purj)ose of the owner, who wished to 
 leave a large trust-estate, and at the same time a visible 
 monument of his wealth, is completely obtained. And while 
 the building appcai-s in all its magnificence, when -s-icwed 
 from any spot in the district, it also forms the point of view for 
 a most agreeable prospect. You may see the Bachiglione
 
 282 XETTEBS FEOMC ITALY. 
 
 flowing along, and taking vessels down from Verona to the 
 Brenta, while you overlook the extensive possessions which the 
 Marquis Capra wished to preserve undivided in his family. 
 The inscriptions on the four gable-ends, which together con- 
 stitute one whole, are worthy to be noted down : 
 
 Marcus Capra GabrieKs fiHus 
 
 Qui ffides has 
 j\rctissimo primogenitiu-se gradui subjecit 
 
 Una cum omnibus 
 Censibus aszris vallibus et collibus 
 
 Citra viam magnam 
 Memoria? perpetuae mandans hsec 
 
 Dum sustinet ac abstinet. 
 
 The conclusion in particular is strange enough. A man 
 -who has at command so much wealth and such a capacious 
 will, still feels that he must bear and forbear. This can be 
 learned at a less expense. 
 
 Sej}t. 22. 
 
 This evening I was at a meeting held by the academy of 
 the " Olj-mpians." It is mere play- work, but good in its 
 way, and seems to keep up a little spice and life among the 
 people. There is the great hall by Palladio's theatre, hand- 
 somely lighted up ; the Capitan and a portion of the nobility 
 are present, besides a public composed of educated persons, 
 and "several of the clergy ; the whole assembly amounting to 
 about five hundred. 
 
 The question proposed by the president for to-day's sitting 
 was this: " Which has been most serviceable to the fine arts, 
 invention or imitation?" This was a happy notion, for if the 
 alternatives which are involved in the question are kept duly 
 apart, one may go on debating for centuries. The acade- 
 micians have gallantly availed themselves of the occasion, and 
 have produced all sorts of things in prose and verse, — some 
 very good. 
 
 Then there is the liveliest public. The audience ciy bravo, 
 and clap their hands and kugh. What a thing it is to stand 
 thus before one's nation, and amuse them in person! We 
 must set down our best productions in black and white; evcrj'
 
 TICENZA. 283 
 
 one squats down with thcra in a corner, and scribbles at them, 
 as he can. 
 
 It may be imagined that even on this occasion Palladio 
 would be continually appealed to, whether the discourse was in 
 favour of invention or imitation. At the end, which is always 
 the right place for a joke, one of the speakers hit on a happy 
 thought, and said that the others had akeady taken Palladio 
 away from him, so that he, for his part, would praise Fran- 
 cescliini, the great silk-manufacturer. lie then began to 
 show the advantages which this enterprising man, and 
 through him the city of Yicenza, had derived from imitating 
 the LyoTmese and Florentine stuffs, and thence came to the 
 conclusion that imitation stands far above invention. This 
 was done with so much humour, that uninterrupted laughter 
 was excited. Generally those who spoke in favor of imitation 
 obtained the most applause, for they said nothing but what 
 was adapted to the thoughts and capacities of the multitude. 
 Once the public, by a violent clapping of hands, gave its; 
 hearty approval to a most clumsy sophism, when it had not 
 felt many good — nay, excellent things, that had been said in 
 honour of invention. I am very glad I have witnessed this 
 scene, for it is highly gratifying to see Palladio, after the 
 lapse of so long a time, .still honoured by his feUow-citizens, 
 as their polar-star and model. 
 
 Sept. 22. 
 
 This morning I was at Tiene, which lies north towards the 
 mountains, where a new building has been erected after an 
 old plan, of which there may be a little to say. Thus do they 
 here honour everj'thing that belongs to the good period, and 
 have sense enough to raise a new building on a plan which 
 they have inherited. The chateau is excellently situated in a 
 large plain, having behind it the calcareous Alps, without 
 anv mountains intervening. A stream of livini' water- flows 
 along the level causeway from each side of the building, 
 towards those who approach it, and waters the broad fields of 
 rice through which one passes. 
 
 I have now seen but two Italian cities, and for the first time, 
 and have spoken with biit few persons, and yet I know my 
 Italians pretty well. They are like coui'ticrs, who consider
 
 284 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 themselves the first people in the M'orld, aud who, on the 
 stren2:th of certain advantages, wliich cannot be denied them, 
 can indidgc with imjiunity in so comlbrtable a thought. The 
 Italians appear to me a right good people. Only one must 
 see the children and the common people as I see them now, 
 and can see them, while I am always open to them. — nay, 
 always lay myself open to them, "\\liat figures and faces 
 there are ! 
 
 It is especially to be commended in the Viccntians, that 
 with them one enjoys the pri-sileges of a large city. AVhat- 
 ever a person does, they do not stare at him, but if he 
 addresses them, they are conversable and pleasant, especially 
 the Avomen, who please me much. I do not mean to find 
 fault Avith the Teronesc women; they are AveU made and 
 haA-e a decided pujiil. but they are, for the most i)art, pale, 
 and the Zcndal is to their disadA^antage, because one looks for 
 somethinG: charmins; under the beautiful costume. I have 
 found here some veiy pretty creatures, especially some with 
 black locks, Avho inspire me Avith peculiar interest. There are 
 also fairer beauties who, however, do not please me so well. 
 
 Padua, Sept. 26. Evening. 
 
 In four hours I have this day come here from Vicemoi, 
 crammed luggage and all into a little one-seated chaise, 
 called a ^^Sediola.'" Generally the journey is performed with 
 ease in three hours and a half, but as I Avished to pass the 
 debghtful day-time in the open air, I A\-as glad that the Vet- 
 turino fell short of his duty. The route goes constantly south- 
 AA-ards over the most fertile plains, and between hedges and 
 trees, Avithout further prospect, imtil at last the beautiful 
 mountains, extending from the east toAvards the south, are 
 seen on the right hand. The abundance of the festoons of 
 plants and fruit, which liang OAcr Avails and hedges, and doA^^l 
 the ti"ces, is indescribal^lo. The roofs are loaded Avith gourds, 
 and the strangest sort of cucumbers are hanging from poles 
 and trellises. 
 
 From the observatory I could take the clearest survey pos- 
 sible of tlie fine situation of tlie town. ToAvards the north 
 are the Tyrolese mountains. coA-cred AA'itli snoAv, and half 
 liidden by clouds, and joined by the Yicentian moimtains on
 
 TADUA. 285 
 
 tlic north-west. Then towards the west are the nearer moun- 
 tains of Este, the .sliapcs and recesses of which arc plainly to 
 be seen. Towards the south-east is a verdant sea of plants, 
 Avithout a trace of elevation, tree after tree, bush after bush, 
 plantation after plantation, while houses, villas, and chiu-ches, 
 dazzling with whiteness, peer out from amonj? the green. 
 Against the horizon I plainly saw the tower of St. Mark's at 
 Venice, with other smaller towers. 
 
 Padua, Sept. 17. 
 
 I have at last obtained the works of Palladio, not indeed 
 the original ctlition, which I saw at Viccnza, where the cuts 
 are in wood, but a fac-simile in copper, published at the 
 expense of an excellent man, named Smith, who wa^; formerly 
 the English consul at Venice. We must give the English this 
 credit, that they have long laiown how to prize what is good, 
 and have a magnificent way of diffusing it. 
 
 On the occasion of this purchase I entered a book-shnp, 
 which in Italy presents quite a pecidiar appearance. Aroimd 
 it are arranged the book's, all stitched, and during the whole 
 day good society may be found in the shop, which is a lounge 
 for all the secidar clergy, nobihty, and artists who are in any 
 ■way connected with literature. One asks for a book, opens 
 it, and amuses himself as one can. Ilius I fomid a knot of 
 half a dozen all of whom became attentive to me, when I 
 asked for the works of Palladio. While the master of the 
 shop looked for the book, they commended it, and gave me infor- 
 mation respecting the original and the copy ; they were well 
 acquainted with the work itself and with the merits of the author. 
 Taking me for an architect they praised me for having recourse 
 to this master in preference to all the rest, saying that he was 
 of more practical utiUty than Vitruvius himself, since he had 
 thorougMy studied the ancients and anticpiity, and had sought 
 to adapt the latter to the wants of oiu* own times. I con- 
 versed for a long time \\\\h. these friendly men, leamed'some- 
 thing about the remarkable objects in the city, and took my 
 leave. 
 
 Where men have built churches to saints, a place may some- 
 times be found in them, where monuments to intellectual 
 men may be set up. The bust of Cardinal Bcmbo stands
 
 286 XETTEKS rKO.AI ITALY. 
 
 between Ionic columns. It is a handsome face, strongly drawn 
 in, if I may use the expression, and with a copious beard. 
 The inscription runs thus: "Petri Bembi Card, imaginem 
 Hier. Guerinus Ismeni f. in publico ponendam curavit ut 
 cujus ingenii monumenta astema sint, ejus corporis quoquc 
 memoria ne a posteritate desideretur." 
 
 With all its dignity the University gave me the hoiTors, as a 
 building. I am glad that I had nothing to leam in it. One cannot 
 imagine such a naiTow compass for a school, even though, 
 as the student of a German imiversity, one may have suffered 
 a great deal on the benches of the Auditorium. The anato- 
 mical theatre is a perfect model of the art of pressing students 
 together. The audience are piled one above another in a tall 
 pointed funnel. They look do^n upon the narrow space 
 where the table stands, and, as no daylight falls upon it, the 
 Professor must demonstrate by lamplight. The botanic gar- 
 den is much more pretty and cheerful. Several plants can 
 remain in the ground dm-ing the winter, if they are set near 
 the walls, or at no great distance from them. At the end of 
 October the whole is built over, and the process of heating is 
 carried on for the few remaining moflths. Itf is pleasant and 
 instructive to walk thi-ough a vegetation that is strange to us. 
 With ordinary' plants, as well as with other objects that have 
 been long familiar to us, we at last do not think at all, and 
 what is looking without tliinking ? Amidst this variety which 
 comes upon me quite new, the idea that all forms of plants 
 may, perhaps, be developed from a single form, becomes more 
 lively than ever. On this principle alone it would be possible 
 to define orders and classes, which, it seems to me, has hitherto 
 been done in a very arbitraiy manner. At this point I stand 
 fast in my botanical philosophy, and I do not see how I am to 
 extricate myself. The depth and breadth of this business 
 seem to me quite equal. 
 
 The great square, called Prcto della Valle, is a very wide 
 space, Avhere the chief fair is held in June. The wooden 
 booths in the middle of it do not produce the most favourable 
 appearance, but the inhabitants assure me that there will soon 
 be a fiera of stone here, Hke that at Verona. One has hopes 
 of this ah'cady, from the manner in which the Prato is sur- 
 rounded, and which affords a vciy beautiful and imposing view. 
 
 A hxigu oval is surrounded with statues, ail representing
 
 , PADTTA. 287 
 
 <;elebi-ated men, who have taught or studied at the Univer- 
 sity. Any native or foreigner is allowed to erect a statue 
 of a certain size to any countryman or Idnsmau, as soon as the 
 merit of the person and his academical residence at Padua are 
 proved. 
 
 A moat filled with water goes roimd the oval. On the four 
 bridges which lead up to it stand colossal figures of Popes and 
 Doges; the other statues, which are smaller, have been set 
 up by corporations, private individuals, or foreigners. The 
 King of Sweden caused a figure of Gustavus Adolphus to be 
 erected, because it is said he once heard a lecture iu Padua. 
 The Archduke Leopold revived the memory of Petrarch and 
 Galileo. The statues are in a good, modem style, a few of 
 them rather affected, some very natural, and all in the 
 costume of their rank and dignity. The inscriptions deserve 
 commendation. There is nothing iu them absurd or paltry. 
 
 At any university the thought would have been a happy 
 one (and here it is particularly so), because it is veiy delight- 
 ful to sec a whole line of departed worthies thus called back 
 again. It will perhaps form a verj-^ beautiful Prato, when the 
 wooden Fih-a shall be removed, and one built of stone, accord- 
 ing to the aforesaid plan. 
 
 In the consistory of a fi-atemity dedicated to S. Anthony, 
 there are some pictures of an early date, which remind one of 
 the old German paintings, and also some by Titian, in v,-hicK 
 may be remarked the great progress which no one has made 
 on the other side of the Alps. Immediately afterwards I saw 
 works by some of the most modern painters. These artists, 
 as they could not hope to succeed in the lofty and the serious, 
 have been very happy in hitting the humorous. The decol- 
 lation of John by Piazetta is, in this sense, a capital picture, 
 if one can once allow the master's manner. John is kneeling, 
 with his hands before him, and his right knee on a stone, looldng 
 towards heaven. One of the soldiers, who is binding him, is 
 bending round on one side, and looking into his face, as if he 
 was wondering at his patient resignation. Higher up stands 
 another, who is to deal the fatal blow. He does not, however, 
 hold the sword, but makes a motion with his hands, like one 
 who is practising the stroke beforehand. A tliird is drawing 
 the sword out of the scabbard. The thought is happy, if not 
 grand, and the composition is striking and produces the best 
 effect.
 
 288 LETTERS FKOJI ITALY. 
 
 Ill tlic cliui'cli of the Eremitani I have seen pictures by 
 Maiitegna, one of the older painters, at Avhich I am astonished. 
 "What a sharp, strict actuality is exhibited in these pictures ! 
 It is from this actuality, thoroughly true, not apparent, merely 
 and falsely effective, and appealing solely to the imagination, 
 but solid, pure, bright, elaborated, conscientious, delicate, and 
 circumscribed — an actuality which had about it something 
 severe, credulous, and laborious; it is from this, I say, that 
 the later painters proceeded (as I remarked in the pictures by 
 Titian), in order that by the liveliness of their own genius, 
 the encrg\' of their natiu'c illumined at the same time by thi- 
 mind of the predecessors, and exalted by their force, they 
 might rise higher and higher, and elevated above the earth, 
 produce forms that were heavenly indeed, but still true. 
 Thus was art developed after the barbarous period. 
 
 The hall of audience in the town-house, properly designated 
 by the augmentative " Salone," is such a huge inelosure 
 that one cannot conceive it, much less recall it to one's imme- 
 diate memory-. It is three hundred feet long, one hundred feet 
 broad, and one hundred feet high, measured up to the roof, 
 which covers it quite in. So accustomed are these people to 
 live in the open air, that tbe architects look out for a market- 
 place to over-arch. And there is no question that this huge 
 vaulted space produces quite a pccidiar effect. It is au 
 inclosed infinity, which has more analogy to man's habits and 
 feelings than the starry heavens. The latter takes us out of 
 ourselves, the former insensibility brings us back to our- 
 selves. 
 
 For the same reason I also like to stay in the Church of 
 S. .Justina. This church, which is eighty-five feet long, and high 
 and broad in proportion, is built in a gi-and and simple style. 
 This evening I seated myself in a corner, and indulged in 
 quiet contemplation. Then I felt myself truly alone, for no 
 one in the world, even if he had thought of me for the 
 moment, would have looked for me here. 
 
 Now everything ought to be packed up again, for to-mor- 
 row morning I set off by water, upon the Brenta. It rained 
 to-day, but now it has cleared up, and I hope I shall be able 
 to see the lagiuies and the Bride of the Sea by beautifiU day- 
 light, and to greet my friends from her bosom.
 
 VENICE. 
 
 Now it stood wiitten on my page in the Book of Fate, tliat 
 on the evening of the 28th of September, by 5 o'clock, German 
 time, I should see Venice for the first time, as I passed from 
 the Brenta into the laguues, and that, soon afterwards, I 
 should actually enter and visit this strange island-city, this 
 heaven-like republic. So now. Heaven be praised, Venice is 
 no longer to me a bare and a hollow name, which has so 
 long tormented me, — mc, the mental enemy of mere verbal 
 sounds. 
 
 As the first of the gondoliers came up to the ship (they 
 come in order to convey more quickly to Venice those passen- 
 gers who are in a huny), I recollected an old plaything, of 
 which, perhaps, I had not thought for twenty years. My 
 father had a beautiful model of a gondola which he had 
 brought with him [Jrom Iiali/~\ ; he set a great value upon it, 
 and it was considered a great treat, when I was allowed to 
 play with it. The first beaks of tinned iron-plote, the black 
 gondola-gi'atings, all greeted me like old acquaintances, and 
 I experienced again dear emotions of my childhood which had 
 been long iirJcnown. 
 
 I am well lodged at the sign of the Queen of England, not 
 far from the square of S. Mark, which is, indeed, the chief 
 advantage of the spot. My windows look upon a narroAv 
 canal between lofty houses, a bridge of one arch is immedi- 
 ately below me, and directly opposite is a naitow, bustling 
 alley. Thus am I lodged, and here I shall remain mitil I 
 liave made up my packet for Germany, and until I am satiated 
 with the sight of the city. I can now really enjoy the soli- 
 tude for which I have longed so ardently, for nowhere does a 
 man feel himself more solitary than in a crowd, where he 
 ' must push his way unknowm to every one. Perhaps in Venice 
 there is only one person who knows me, and he will not come 
 in contact with me all at once. 
 
 Venice, September 28, 1786. 
 A few words on my journey hither from Padua. The pas- 
 sage on the Brenta, in the public vessel, and in good compajiy, 
 is highly agreeable. The banks are ornamented with gardens 
 And villas, little hamlets come down to the water's edge, and 
 Vol. II. V
 
 290 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 the animated highroad may be seen here and there. As the 
 descent of the river is by means of locks, there is often a httle 
 pause, which may be employed in looking about the country, 
 and in tasting the fruits, which are offered in great abimdance. 
 You then enter your vessel again, and move on thi'ough a 
 world, which is itself in motion, and which is fiill of life and 
 fertihty. 
 
 To so many changing forms and images a phenomenon was 
 added, which, although derived from Germany, was quite in 
 its place here — I mean two pilgrims, the first whom I have 
 seen closely. They have a right to travel gratis in this public 
 conveyance ; but because the rest of the passengers dislike 
 coming into contact with them, they do not sit in the covered 
 part, but in the after-part beside the steersman. They were 
 stared at as a phenomenon even at the present day, and as in 
 former times many vagabonds had made use of this cloak, 
 they were but lightly esteemed. When I learned that they 
 were Germans, and could speak no language but their ovm, I 
 joined them, and found that they came from the Paderborn 
 territory. Both of them were men of more than fifty years 
 of age, and of a dark, but good-humoured physiognomy. They 
 had fij-st visited the sepulchre of the '-Thi-ee Kings" at 
 Cologne, had then travelled thi-ough Germany, and were now 
 together on their way back to Rome and Upper Italy, whence 
 one intended to set out for Westphalia, and the other to pay 
 a visit of adoration to St. James of Compostella. 
 
 Their dress was the well-known costume of pilgrims, but 
 they looked much better with this tucked up robe, than the 
 pUgrims in long taffeta garments, we are accustomed to exhibit 
 at our masquerades. The long cape, the roimd hat, the staff 
 and cockle (the latter used as the most innocent di-uiking- 
 vessel) — aU had its signification, and its immediate use, while 
 a tin-case held their passports. Most remarkable of aU were 
 their small, red morocco pocket-books, in which they kept all 
 the little implements that might be wanted for any simple 
 necessity. They took them out on finding that somethmg 
 wanted mending in their garments. 
 
 The steersman, highly pleased to find an interpreter, made 
 me ask them several questions, and thus I learned a gi-eat 
 deal about their views, and especially about their expedition. 
 They made bitter complaints against their brethren in the
 
 I 
 
 THE PASSAGE TO VENICE. 291 
 
 faith, and even against the clergy, both secular and monastic. 
 Piety, they said, must be a very scarce commodity, since no 
 one would believe in theirs, but they were treated as vagrants 
 in almost every Catholic covmtry, although they produced the 
 route which had been clerically prescribed, and the passports 
 given by the bishop. On the other hand, they described, with 
 a great deal of emotion, how well they had been received by 
 protestants, and made special mention of a country clergyman 
 in Suabia, and stiU more of liis wife, who had prevailed on her 
 somewhat unwilling husband to give them an abundant repast, 
 of which they stood in great need. On taking leave, the good 
 couple had given them a " convention's dollar,' "•■' which they 
 found very serviceable, as soon as they entered the Catholic 
 temtorj'. Upon this, one of them said, with all the elevation 
 of which he was capable: " We include this lady every day 
 in our prayers, and implore God that he will open her eyes, 
 as he has opened her heart towards us, and take her, although 
 late, into the bosom of the Cathohc Church. And thus we 
 hope that we shall meet her in Paradise hereafter." 
 
 As I sat upon the little gang-way which led to the deck, 
 I explained as much as was neccssaiy and useful to the steers- 
 man, and to some other persons who had crowded from the 
 cabin into this nan*ow space. The pilgrims received some 
 paltry donations, for the Italian is not fond of giving. Upon 
 this they drew out some little consecrated tickets, on which 
 might be seen the representation of the thi-ce sainted kings, 
 with some prayers addressed to them. ITie worthy men 
 entreated me to distribute these tickets among the little partj% 
 and explain how invaluable they were. In this I succeeded 
 perfectly, for when the two men appeared to be greatly em- 
 baiTassed as to how they should find the convent devoted to 
 pilgrims in so large a place as Venice, the steersman was 
 touched, and promised that, when they landed, he would give 
 a boy a trifle to lead them to that distant spot. lie added to 
 me in confidence, that they would find but little welcome. 
 " The institution," he said, " was foimded to admit I don't 
 know how many pilgrims, but now it has become greatly con- 
 tracted, and the revenues are otherwise employed." 
 
 * A "convention's dollar" is a dollar coined in consequence of an 
 agreement made between several of the German states, in the year 1750, 
 when the Viennese standard was adopted. — Trans. 
 
 u 2
 
 292 LETIZKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 During this conversation we had gone down the beautiful 
 Bronta, leaving behind us many a noble garden, and naany a 
 noble palace, and casting a rapid glance at the populous and 
 thiiving hamlets, which lay along the banks. Several gon- 
 dolas wound about the ship as soon as we had entered the 
 lagimes. A Lombard, well acquainted with Venice, asked 
 me to accompany him, that we might enter all the quicker, 
 and escape the nuisance of the custom-house. Those who 
 endeavoured to hold us back, he contrived to put off with a 
 little drink-money, and so, in a cheerful simset, we floated to 
 the place of our destination. 
 
 Sept. 29 {Michaelmas-Day). Evening. 
 
 So much has already been told and printed about Venice, 
 that I shall not be cii-cimistantial in my description, but shall 
 only say how it struck me. Now, in this instance again, that 
 which makes the chief impression upon me, is the people, — a 
 great mass, who live an involuntary existence determined by 
 the changing circumstances of the moment. 
 
 It was for no idle fancy that this race fled to these islands ; 
 it was no mere whim which impelled those who followed to 
 combine with them ; necessity taught them to look for security 
 in a highly disadvantageous situation, that afterwards became 
 most advantageous, enduing them with talent, when the whole 
 northern world was inmiersed in gloom. Their increase and 
 their wealth were a necessary consequence. New dwellings 
 arose close against dwellings, rocks took the place of sand and 
 marsh, houses sought the sky, being forced like trees inclosed 
 in a narrow compass, to seek in height what was denied them 
 in breadth. Being niggards of every inch of groimd, as having 
 been from the very first compressed into a narrow compass, 
 they allowed no more room for the streets than was just neces- 
 sary to separate a row of houses from the one opposite, and <to 
 aflbrd the citizens a narrow passage. Moreover, water sup- 
 pUed the place of street, square, and promenade. The Vene- 
 tian was forced to become a new creature ; and thus Venice 
 can only be compared with itself. The large canal, winding 
 like a serpent, yields to no street in the world, and nothing can 
 be put by the side of the space in front of St. Mark's square — I 
 mean that great miiTor of water, Avhich is encompassed by Venice
 
 I 
 
 VENICE. 293 
 
 Proper, in the form of a crescent. Across the watery sxirface 
 you see to the left the island of St. Georgio Maggiore, to the 
 right a little further off the Guidecca and its canal, and still 
 more distant the Dog ana (Custom-house) and the entrance 
 into the Canal Grande, where right before us two immense 
 marble temples are glittering in the simshine. All the views 
 and prospects have been so often engraved, that my friends 
 will have no difficulty in forming a clear idea of them. 
 
 After dinner I hastened to fix my first impression of the 
 whole, and without a guide, and merely observing the car- 
 dinal points, threw myself into the labyrinth of the city, which 
 though everyT\'here intersected by larger or smaller canals, 
 is again connected by bridges. The naiTow and crowded 
 appearance of the whole cannot be conceived by one Avho has 
 not seen it. In most cases one can quite or nearly measm-e 
 the breadth of the street, by stretching out one's arms, and 
 in the narrowest, a person would scrape his elbows if he 
 walked with his arms a-kimbo. Some streets, indeed, arc 
 wider, and here and there is a little square, but comparatively 
 all may be called narrow. 
 
 I easUy found the grand canal, and the principal bridge — 
 the Rialto, which consists of a single arch of white marble. 
 Looking down from this, one has a fine prospect, — the canal 
 fuU of ships, which bring every necessary from the con- 
 tinent, and put in chiefly at this place to imload, while 
 between them is a swarm of gondolas. To-day, especially, 
 being Michaelmas, the view was M'onderfuUy animated; but 
 to give some notion of it, I must go back a little. 
 
 The two principal parts of Venice, which are divided by 
 the grand canal, are connected by no other bridge than the 
 Kialto, but several means of communication an; provided, 
 and the river is crossed in open boats at certain fixed points. 
 To-day a vcrj- pretty effect was produced, by the number of 
 well-dressed ladies, who, their features concealed beneath 
 large black veils, were being ferried over in large parties at a 
 time, in order to go to the church of the Archangel, whose 
 festival was being solemnised. I left the bridge and went to 
 one of the points of landing, to see the parties as they left the 
 boats. I discovered some very fine forms and faces among 
 them. 
 
 After I had become tu-ed of this amusement, I seated myself
 
 294 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 in a gondola, and, quitting the narrow streets with the inten- 
 tion of witnessing a spectacle of an opposite description, went 
 along the northern part of the grand canal, into the lagunes, 
 and then entered the canal della Guidecca, going as far as the 
 square of St. Mark. Now was I also one of the birds of the 
 Adriatic sea, as every Venetian feels himself to be, whilst re- 
 clining in his gondola. I then thought with due honour of my 
 good father, who knew of nothing better than to talk about 
 the things I now witnessed. And will it not be so with 
 me likewise? All that sun-ounds me is dignified — a gi-and 
 venerable work of combined human energies, a noble 
 monument, not of a ruler, but of a people. And if their 
 lagunes are gradually filling up, if unwholesome vapours 
 are floating over the marsh, if their trade is declining and 
 their power has ^imk, stiU the great place and the essen- 
 tial character will not for a moment, be less venerable to the 
 observer. Venice succumbs to time, like everything that has 
 a phenomenal existence. 
 
 Sept. 30. 
 
 Towards evening I again rambled, without a guide, into the 
 remotest quarters of the city. Tlie bridges here are all pro- 
 vided with stairs, that gondolas, and even larger vessels, may 
 pass conveniently imder the arches. I sought to find my 
 way in and out of this labyi'iath, without asking anybody, 
 and, on this occasion also, only guiding myself by the points 
 of the compass. One disentangles one's self at last, but it is a 
 wonderful complication, and my manner of obtaining a sen- 
 sible impression of it, is the best. I have now been to the 
 remotest points of the city, and observed the conduct, mode of 
 life, manners, and character of the inhabitants ; and in every 
 quarter they are different. Gracious Heaven ! — ^What a poor 
 good sort of animal man is, after all! 
 
 Most of the smaller houses stand immediately on the canals, 
 but there are here and there quays of stone, beautifully 
 paved, along which one may take a pleasant walk between the 
 water, and the chm-chcs, and palaces. Particularly cheerful 
 and agreeable is the long stone qviay on the northern side, from 
 which the islands are visible, especially Murano, wliich is a
 
 VENICE. 295 
 
 Venice on a small scale. The intervening lagunes are all 
 alive with little gondolas. 
 
 Sept. 30. Evening. 
 To-day I have enlarged my notions of Venice by procuring 
 a plan of it. When I had studied it for some time, I ascended 
 the tower of St. Mark, where an imique spectacle is presented 
 to the eye. It was noon, and the sun was so bright that I 
 could see places near and distant without a glass. The tide 
 covered the lagunes, and when I tm-ned my eyes towards 
 what is called the Lido (this is a narrow strip of earth, which 
 bounds the lagunes), I saw the sea for the first time with 
 some sails upon it. In the lagmies themselves some gallies 
 and frigates are lying, destined to join the Chevalier Emo, 
 who is making war on the Algerincs, but detained by im- 
 favorable winds. The mountains of Padua and Vicenza, and 
 the mountain-chain of Tyi-ol, beautifully bound the picture 
 between the north and west. 
 
 October 1. 
 
 I went out and siu*vcycd the city from many points of view, 
 and as it was Sunday, I was struck by the great want of 
 cleanliness in the streets, which forced me to make some 
 reflections. There seems to be a sort of policy in this mat- 
 ter, for the people scrape the sweepings into the cornei-s, and 
 I see large ships going backwards and fonvards, which at 
 several points lie to, and take off the accumulation. They 
 belong to the people of the smTouuding islands, who are in 
 Avant of manure. But, however, there is neither consistency 
 nor strictness in this method, and the want of cleanliness in 
 the city is the more unpardonable, as in it, as much provi- 
 sion has been made for cleaning it, as in any Dutch tOAvn. 
 
 All the streets are paved — even those in the remotest quarters, 
 with bricks at least, which are laid down lengthwise, -with the 
 edges slightly canting: the middle of the street where neces- 
 sary is raised a little, while channels are formed on each side 
 to receive the water, and convey it into covered drains. 
 There are other arcliitectm-al arrangements in the original 
 well-considered plan, which prove the intention of the ex- 
 cellent architects to make Venice the most cleanly, as well as
 
 296 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 the most singular of cities. As I walked along I could not 
 refrain from sketching a body of regulations on the subject, 
 anticipating in thought some superintendent of police, who 
 might act in earnest. Thus one always feels an inclination 
 to sweep one's neighbour's door. 
 
 Oct. 2, 1786. 
 
 Before all things I hastened to the Caritd. I had found in 
 Palladio's works that he had planned a monastic building 
 here, in which he intended to represent a private residence 
 of the rich and hospitable ancients. The plan, which was 
 excellently drawn, both as a whole and in detail, gave me 
 infinite delight, and I hoped to find a marvel. Alas! scarcely 
 a tenth part of the edifice is finished. However, even this 
 part is worthy of that heavenly genius. There is a complete- 
 ness in the plan, and an accuracy in the execution, which I had 
 never before witnessed. One ought to pass whole years in 
 the contemplation of such a work. It seems to me that I 
 have seen nothing grander, nothing more perfect, and I fancy 
 that I am not mistaken. Only imagine the admirable artist, 
 born with an inner feeling for the grand and the pleasing, 
 now, for the first time, forming himself by the ancients, with 
 incredible labour, that he may be the means of reviving them. 
 He finds an opportunity to cairy out a favorite thought in 
 building a convent, which is destined as a dwelling for so many 
 monks, and a shelter for so many strangers, in the form of an 
 antique private residence. 
 
 The church was already standing and led to an atrium of 
 Corinthian colunans. Here one feels delighted, and forgets 
 all priestcraft. At one end, the sacristy, at another, a chapter- 
 room is found, while there is tbe finest winding starr-case in 
 the world, with a Mide well, and the stone-steps built into 
 the wall, and so laid, tliat one svipports another. One is never 
 tired of going,,up and down this stair-case, and we may judge 
 of its success, from the fact that Palladio himself declares 
 that he has succeeded. The fore-court leads to the large 
 inner-court. Unfortimately, nothing is finished of the build- 
 ing which was to siu-round this, except the left side. Here 
 there are three rows of columns, one over the other ; on the 
 ground-floor are the halls, on the first story is an archway in
 
 VENICE. 297 
 
 front of the cells, and the upper story consists of a plain wall 
 with windows. However, this description should be illus- 
 trated by a reference to the sketches. I will just add a word 
 about the execution. 
 
 Only the capitals and bases of the columns, and the 
 key-stones of the arches, are of he^vn stone ; all the rest is 
 — I will not say of brick, but — of burned clay. This de- 
 scription of tile I never saw before. The frieze and cornice 
 are of the same material, as well as the parts of the arch. 
 All is but half biunit, and lastly the building is put together 
 with a very little lime. As it stands it looks as if it had 
 been produced at one cast. If the whole had been finished, 
 and it had been properly rubbed up and coloured, it would 
 have been a charming sight. 
 
 However, as so often happens with buildings of a modern 
 time, the plan was too large. The artist had pre-supposed not 
 only that the existing convent would be pulled down, but also 
 that the adjoining houses would be bought, and here money 
 and inclination probably began to fail. Kind Destiny, thou 
 who hast formed and perpetuated so much stupidity, why 
 didst thou not allow this work to be completed! 
 
 Oct. 3. 
 
 The church // Redcnlore is a large and beautiful work by Pal- 
 ladio, with a fagade even more worthy of praise than that of 
 S. Giorgio. These works, which have often been engraved, 
 must be placed before you. to elucidate what is said. I will 
 only add a few words. 
 
 Palladio was thoroughly imbued with the antique mode of 
 existence, and felt the narrow, petty spirit of his own age, 
 like a great man M'ho will not give way to it, but strives to 
 mould all that it leaves him, as far as possible, into accord- 
 ance with his own ideas. From a slight perusal of his book 
 I conclude that he was displeased with the contimunl practice 
 of building C!hristian churches after the form of the ancient 
 Basilica, and, therefore, sought to make his own sacred edifices 
 approximate to the form of the antique temple. Hence arose 
 certain discrepancies, which, as it seemed to me, are happily 
 avoided in // Rcdrntnre, but are ratlier ob-\'ious in the S. 
 Giorgio. Volckmann says somethuig about it, but docs not 
 hit the nail on the head.
 
 298 lETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 The interior of II Redentore is likewise admirable. Every- 
 thing, including even the designs of the altars, is by PaUadio. 
 Unfortunately, the niches, which should have been fiUed with 
 statues, are glaring with wooden figures, flat, carved, and 
 painted. 
 
 October 3. 
 
 In honour of S. Francis, S. Peter's capuchins have splendidly 
 adorned a side altar. There was nothing to be seen of stone 
 but the Corinthian capitals ; all the rest seemed to be covered 
 with tasteful but splendid embroidery, in the arabesque style, 
 and the effect was as pretty as could be desired. I particu- 
 larly admii'ed the broad tendi-ils and foliage, embroidered in 
 gold. Going nearer, I discovered an ingenious deception. 
 All that I had taken for gold was, in fact, straw pressed flat, 
 and glued upon paper, according to some beautiful outlines, 
 while the ground was painted with lively colours. This is 
 done with such variety and tact, that the design, which was 
 probably worked in the convent itself, with a material that 
 was worth nothing, must have cost several thousand dollars, 
 if the material had been genuine. It might on occasion be 
 advantageously imitated 
 
 On one of the quays, and in front of the water I have often 
 remarked a little feUow telling stories in the Venetian dialect, 
 to a greater or less concom'se of auditors. Unfortunately I 
 cannot understand a word, but I observe that no one laughs, 
 though the audience, who are composed of the lowest class, 
 occasionally smile. There is nothing striking or ridiculous 
 in the man's appearance, but, on the contrary, something very 
 sedate, with such admirable variety and precision in his ges- 
 tures, that they evince ai-t and reflection. 
 
 October 3. 
 With my plan in my hand I endeavored to find my way 
 through the strangest labp-inth to the chm-ch of the Mendi- 
 canti. Here is the conservatoriimi, which stands in the high- 
 est repute at the present day. The ladies performed an 
 oratorio behind the grating, the chm-ch was fiUed with hear- 
 ers, the music was very beautiful, and the voices were magni;
 
 VENICE. 299 
 
 ficent. An alto sung the part of King Saul, the chief per- 
 sonage in the poem. Of such a voice J. had no notion what- 
 ever ; some passages of the music were excessively beautiful, 
 and the words, which were Latin, most laughably Italianized 
 in some places, were perfectly adapted for singing. Music 
 here has a wide field. 
 
 The performance would have been a source of great enjoy- 
 ment, if the accursed Maestro ^i Capella had not beaten time 
 with a roll of music against the grating, as conspicuously as if 
 he had to do with school-boys, whom he was instructing. As 
 the girls had repeated the piece often enough, his noise was 
 quite unnecessary, and destroyed all impression, as much as 
 he would, who, in order to make a beautiful statue intelligible 
 to us, should stick scarlet patches on the joints. The foreign 
 soimd destroys all harmony. Now this man is a musician, 
 and yet he seems not to be sensible of this ; or, more properly 
 speaking, he chooses to let his presence be known by an 
 impropriety, when it would have been much better to allow 
 his value to be perceived by the perfection of the execution. 
 I know that this is the faidt of the French, but I did not give 
 the Italians credit for it, and yet the public seems accustomed 
 to it. This is not the first time that that which spoils enjoy- 
 ment, has been supposed to belong directly to it. 
 
 October 3. 
 
 Yesterday eveniiig I went to the Opera at the S. Moses (for 
 the theatres take their name from the church to which they 
 lie nearest) ; nothing very delightful ! In the plan, the music, 
 and the singers, that energy was wanting, which alone can 
 elevate opera to the highest point. One could not say of any 
 part that it was bad, but the two female actresses alone took 
 pains, not so much to act well, but to set themselves off and 
 to please. That is something, after all. Tlicse two actresses 
 have beautiful figm-es, and good voices, and are nice, lively, 
 compact, little bodies. Among the men, on the other hand, 
 there is no trace of national power, or even of pleasure, in. 
 working on the imaginations of their audience. Neither is 
 there among them any voice of decided briUianey. 
 
 The ballet, which was Avi-etchedly conceived, was con- 
 demned as a Avhole, but some excellent dancers and danseuses^
 
 300 liETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 the latter of ■whom considered it their duty to make the spec- 
 tators acquainted with all their personal charms, were heartily 
 applauded. 
 
 October 5. 
 
 To-day, however, I saw another comedy, which gave me 
 more pleasure. In the ducal pt^ace I heard the public discus- 
 sion of a law case. It was important, and, happily for me, 
 was brought forward in the holidays. One of the advocates 
 had all the quahfications for an exaggerated buffo. His figure 
 was short and fat, but supple; in profile his features were 
 monstrously prominent. He had a stentorian voice, and a 
 vehemence as if everything that he said came in earnest from 
 the very bottom of his heart. I call this a comedy, because, 
 probably, everything had been already prepared when the 
 public exhibition took place. The judges knew what they 
 had to say, and the parties what they had to expect. How- 
 ever, this plan pleases me infinitely more than our hobbUng 
 law affairs. I will endeavor to give some notion of the par- 
 ticulars, and of the neat, natural, and unostentatious manner 
 in which everything takes place. 
 
 In a spacious hall of the jjalace the judges were sitting on 
 one side, in a half circle. Opposite to them, in a tribune which 
 could hold several persons, Avere the advocates for both par- 
 ties ; and upon a bench immediately in front of them, the 
 plantiff, and defendant in person. The advocate for the 
 plaintiff had descended from the tribune, since there was 
 to be no controversy at this day's sitting. AU the documents, 
 on both sides, were to be read, although they were already 
 printed. 
 
 A lean clerk, in a black scanty gown, and with a thick 
 bundle in his hand, prepared to perform the office of a 
 reader. The hall was completely crammed with persons who 
 came to see and to hear. The point of law itself, and the 
 persons whom it concerned, must have appeared highly im- 
 portant to the Venetians. 
 
 Trust-estates are so decidedly secured in Venice, that a 
 property once stamped with this character, preserves it for 
 ever, though it may have been divested ages ago by appro- 
 priations or other circumstances, and though it may havfr
 
 VENICE. 301 
 
 passed through ever so many hands. When the matter 
 comes into dispute the descendants of the first family recover 
 their right, and the property must be delivered up. 
 
 On this occasion the discussion was highly important, for 
 the action was brought against the doge himself, or rather 
 against his wife, who veiled by her zendal, or little hood, 
 sat only at a little distance from the plaintiff. She was Ji 
 lady of a certain age, of noble stature, and with well-formed 
 features, in which there was something of an earnest, not to 
 say fretful character. The Venetians make it a great boast 
 that the princess in her own palace, is obliged to appear 
 before them and the tribimal. 
 
 When the clerk began to read, I for the first time clearly 
 discerned the business of a little man who sat on a low 
 stool behind a small table opposite the judges, and near the 
 advocates. More especially I learned the use of an hour-glass, 
 which was placed before him. As long as the clerk reads, 
 time is not heeded, but the advocate is only allowed a cer- 
 tain time, if he speaks in the course of the reading. The 
 clerk reads, and the hour-glass lies in a horizontal position, 
 with the little man's hand upon it. As soon as the advocate 
 opens his mouth, the glass is raised, and sinks again, as soon 
 as he is silent. It is the great duty of the advocate to 
 make remarks on what is read, to introduce cursory observa- 
 tions in order to excite and challenge attention. This puts 
 the little Saturn in a state of the greatest perplexity. He 
 is obliged every moment to change the horizontal and vertical 
 position of the glass, and finds himself in the situation of the 
 evil spirits in the puppet-show, who by the quickly vaiying 
 "Berliche, Berloche" of the mischievous Hanswurst*, are 
 puzzled whether they are to come or to go. 
 
 Whoever has heard documents read over in a law-com-t, 
 can imagine the reading on this occasion, — quick and mono- 
 tonous, but plain and articulate enough. The ingenious advo- 
 cate contrives to interrupt the tedium by jests, and the public 
 
 * An allusion to the comic scene, in the puppet-play of Faust, from 
 which Goethe took the subject of his poem. One of the two magic words 
 (Berliche, Berloche) summons the devils, the other drives them away, 
 and the Hanswurst (or buffoon), in a mock-incantation scene, perplexes 
 the fiends, by uttering one word after the other, as rapidly as possible. 
 
 Trans.
 
 302 XETTEKS FEOM ITAIT. 
 
 shows its delight in his jokes by immoderate laughter. I must 
 mention one, the most striking of those I could understand. 
 The reader was just reciting the document, by which, one, who 
 was considered to have been illegally possessed of it, had dis- 
 posed of the property in question. The advocate bade him 
 read more slowly, and when he plainly uttered the words: "I 
 give and bequeath," the orator flew violently at the clerk and 
 cried: "What wiU you give? A^Tiat will you bequeath? 
 you poor stai-ved-out devil, nothing in the world belongs to 
 you? " "However,"' — he continued, as he seemed to coUect 
 himself — "the illustrious owner was in the same predica- 
 ment. He Avished to give, he wished to bequeath that which 
 belonged to him no more than to you." A burst of inextin- 
 guishable laughter followed this sally, but the hour-glass at 
 once resumed its horizontal position. The reader went 
 mumbhng on, and made a saucy face at the advocate ; but 
 all these jokes are prepared beforehand. 
 
 Oct. 4. 
 I was yesterday at the play, in the theatre of S, Luke, 
 and was highly pleased. I saw a piece acted extempore in 
 masks, with a great deal of nature, energj', and vigour. The 
 actors are not, indeed, all equal; the pantaloon is excellent, 
 and one of the actresses, who is stout and well-built, speaks 
 admu-ably, and deports herself cleverly, though she is no 
 extraordinary actress. The subject of the piece is extra- 
 vagant, and resembled that which is treated by us under the 
 name of Der Vcrschlag (the partition). With inexhaustible 
 variety it amused us for more than three hours. But even 
 here the people is the base upon which everything rests, the 
 spectators are themselves actors, and the multitude is melted 
 into one whole with the stage. All day long the buyer and 
 the seller, the beggar, the sailor, the female gossip, the advo- 
 cate and his opponent, are living and acting in the square 
 and on the bench, in the gondolas and in the palaces, and make 
 it their business to talk and to asseverate, to cry and to offer 
 for sale, to sing and to play, to curse and to brawl. In the 
 evening they go into the theatre, and see and hear the Hfe of 
 the day artificially put together, prettily set off, interwoven 
 ■with a story, removed from rcaUty by the masks, and brought
 
 VENICE. 303 
 
 near to it by manners. In all this they take a childish delight 
 and again shout and clap, and make a noise. From day to 
 night, — nay, from midnight to midnight, it is always the 
 same. 
 
 I have not often seen more natural acting than that by these 
 masks. It is such acting as can only be sustained by a 
 remarkably happy talent and long practice. 
 
 "While I am writing this, they arc making a tremendous 
 noise on the canal under my Avindow, though it is past mid- 
 night. Whether for good or for evil, they are always doing 
 somethins;. 
 
 October 4. 
 
 I have now heard public orators; \\z., thi-ce fellows in the 
 square and on the stone-bench, each telling tales after his 
 fashion, two advocates, two preachers, and the actors, among 
 whom I must especially commend the pantaloon. All these 
 have something in common, both because they belong to one 
 and the same nation, which, as it always fives in public, 
 always adopts an impassioned mamier of speaking, and 
 because they imitate each other. There is besides a marked 
 language of gesticulations, with which they accompany the 
 expressions of their intentions, views, and feelings. 
 
 This day was the festival of S. Francis, and I was in his 
 church Alle Vigne. The loud voice of the capuchin was 
 accompanied by the cries of the salesmen in front of the 
 church, as by an antiphone. I stood at the church-door 
 between the two, and the effect was singular enough. 
 
 Oct. 5. 
 
 This morning I was in the arsenal, which I found interest- 
 ing enough, though I kno\v nothing of maritime affairs, and 
 visited the lower school there. It has an appearance like 
 that of an old family, which stiU bustles about, although its 
 best time of blossom and fruit has passed. By paying atten- 
 tion to the handicraftsmen, I have seen much that is remark- 
 able, and have been on board an eighty-foui- gun ship, the 
 hull of which is just completed. 
 
 Six months ago a thing of the sort was bm-ned do^yn to the 
 water's edge, ofi" the Riva dei Schiavoni, Tlic powder-room was
 
 S04 XEXTEKS FROM ITA.LY. 
 
 not very full, and when it blew up, it did no great damage. 
 The windows of the neighbouring houses were destroyed. 
 
 I have seen worked the finest oak from Istria, and have 
 made my observations in return upon this valuable tree. 
 That knowledge of the natural things used by man as 
 materials, and employed for his wants, which I have acquired 
 with so much difficidty, has been incalculably serviceable in 
 explaining to me the proceedings of artists and artisans. The 
 knowledge of mountains and of the stone taken out of them 
 has been to me a great advance m art. 
 
 Oct. 5. 
 
 To give a notion of the Bucentaur in one word, I should 
 say that it is a state-galley. The older one, of which we still 
 have di-awings, justified this appellation still more than the 
 present one, which, by its splcndom- makes us forget its 
 original. 
 
 I am always returning to my old opinions. WTien a genuine 
 subject is given to an artist, his productions will be something 
 genuine also. Here the artist was commissioned to form a 
 galley, worthy to carry the heads of the Republic, on the 
 highest festivals in honom- of its ancient rule on the sea; and 
 the problem has been admirably solved. The vessel is all 
 ornament; we ought to say, it is overladen with ornament; it 
 is altogether one piece of gilt carving, for nu other use, but 
 that of a pageant to exhibit to the people its leaders in right 
 noble style. We linow well enough that a people, who 
 likes to deck out its boats, is no less pleased to see their 
 rulers bravely adomed. This state-galley is a good index to 
 show what the Venetians Avere, and what they considered 
 themselves. 
 
 Oct. 5. Night. 
 I came home laughing from a tragedy, and must at once 
 make the jest secure upon paper. The piece was not bad, the 
 author had brought together all the tragic matadors, and the 
 actors played well. Most of the situations were well known, 
 but some were new and liighly felicitous. There are two 
 fathers, who hate each other, sous and daughters of these
 
 VEXICE. 305 
 
 eevcred families, who respectively are passionately in love 
 with each other, and one couple is even privately married. 
 Wild and cruel work goes on, and at last nothiig remains 
 to render the yovmg people happy, but to make the two fathers 
 kill each other, upon wluch the curtain falls amid the liveliest 
 applause. Now the applause becomes more vehement, now 
 " fuora" was called out, and this lasted xmtll the two principal 
 couples vouchsafed to crawl forward from behind the curtain, 
 make their bow, and retire at the opposite side. 
 
 The public was not yet satisfied, but went on clapping 
 and crying: "i morti!" till the two dead men also come 
 forward and made their bow, when some voices cried " bravi i 
 morti!" The applause detained them for a long time, till at 
 last they were allowed to depart. The efiect is infinitely 
 more droll to the eye-and-ear-witness, who, like me, has ring- 
 ing in his ears the "bravo! braNil" which the Italians have 
 incessantly in their mouths, and then suddenly hears the dead 
 also called forward with this word of honour. 
 
 We of the north can say " good night" at any hour, when 
 we take leave after dark, but the Italian says: " Felicissima 
 notte " only once, and that is when the candles are brought 
 into a room. Day and night are thus divided, and something 
 quite different is meant. So impossible is it to translate the 
 idioms of any language! From the highest to the lowest 
 word all has reference to the peculiarities of the natives, in 
 character, opinions, or circumstances. 
 
 Oct. G. 
 
 The tragedy yesterday taught me a great deal. In the first 
 place, I have heard how the Italians treat and declaim their 
 Eleven-syllable iambics, and in the next place, I have imder- 
 stood the tact of Gozzi in combining masks with his tragic 
 personages. This is the proper sort of play for this people, 
 which likes to be moved in a rough fashion. It has no ten- 
 der, heart-felt sympathy for the unfortunate personage, but is 
 only pleased when the hero speaks well. The Italians attach 
 a great deal of importance to the speaking, and then they 
 like to laugh, or to hear something silly. 
 
 Their interest in the di-ama is like that in a real ,event. 
 When the tvrant gave his son a sword and required liim to 
 Vol. II. x
 
 306 LETTERS FKOji ITALY. 
 
 kill his own wife, who was standing opposite, the people 
 began loudly to express their disapprobation of this demand, 
 and there was a great risk that the piece would have been 
 interrupted. They insisted that the old man should take his 
 sword back,in which case all the subsequent situations in the 
 drama would have been completely spoiled. At last, the dis- 
 tressed son plucked up courage, advanced to the proscenium, 
 and humbly entreated that the audience would have patience for 
 a moment, assuring them that all w^ould turn out to their 
 entu-e satisfaction. But even judging jfrom an artistical point 
 of view, this situation was, under the circumstances, silly and 
 lumatm-al, and I commended the people for their feeling. 
 
 I can now better imderstand the long speeches and the 
 frequent dissertations, pro and con, in the Greek tragedy. 
 The Athenians Hked still more to hear speaking, and were still 
 better judges of it, than the Italians. They learned something 
 from the courts of law, where they spent the whole day. 
 
 Oct. 6. 
 
 In those works of PaUadio, which arc completed, I have 
 found much to blame, together with much that is highly 
 valuable. While I was thinking it over in my mind how far 
 I was right or wrong in setting my judgment in opposition to 
 tiat of so extraordinary a man, I felt as if he stood by and 
 said, " I did so and so against my will, but, nevertheless, I did 
 it, because in this manner alone was it possible for me, under 
 the given circumstances, to approximate to my highest idea." 
 
 The more I think the matter over, it seems to me, that Pal- 
 ladio, while contemplating the height and width of an already 
 existing church, or of an old house to which he was to attach 
 ia9ades, only considered: "How will you give the greatest 
 form to these dimensions? Some part of the detail must 
 from the necessity of the case, be put out of its place or 
 spoiled, and something imseemly is sure to arise here and 
 there. Be that as it may, the whole will have a grand style, 
 and you will be pleased with yom* work." 
 
 And thus he carried out the great image which he had 
 ■within his soul, just to the point where it was not quite suit- 
 able, and where he was obliged in the detail to mxitiiato or to 
 overcrowd it.
 
 VENICE. 007 
 
 On the other hand, the wing of the Carita cannot be too 
 highly prized, for here the artist's hands were free, and he 
 could follow the bent of his oAvn mind without constraint. If 
 the convent were finished there would, perhaps, be no work 
 of architecture more perfect throughout the present world. 
 
 How he thought and how he worked becomes more and 
 more clear to me, the more I read his works, and reflect how he 
 treated the ancients; for he says few words, but they arc 
 all important. The fom-th book, which illustrates the antique 
 temples, is a good introduction to a judicious examination of 
 luicient remains. 
 
 Oct. 6. 
 
 Yesterday evening I saw the Electra of Crebillon — that is 
 to say, a translation — at the theatre S. Crisostomo. I cannot 
 say, how absurd the piece appeared to me, and how terribly 
 it tired me out. 
 
 The actors are generally good, and know how to put off the 
 public with single passages. 
 
 Orestes alone has three narratives, poetically set o^in one 
 scene. Electra, a pretty little woman of the middle size and 
 stature, with almost French vivacity, and with a good deport- 
 ment, delivered the verses beautifully, only she acted the part 
 madly from beginning to end, which, alas! it requires. How- 
 ever, I have again learned something. The Italian Iambic, 
 which is invariably of eleven syllables, is very inconvenient for 
 declamation, because the last syllable is always short, and 
 causes an elevation of the voice against the will of the 
 declaimer. 
 
 Oct. 6. 
 This morning I was present at liigh mass, which annually 
 on this day the Doge must attend, in the church of St. Jusfina, 
 to commemorate an old victory over the Turks. When the 
 gilded barks, which carry the princes and a portion of the 
 nobility approach the little square, when the boatmen, in 
 their rare liveries, are plying their red-painted oars, when on 
 the shore the clergy and the religious fraternities are standing, 
 pushing, moving about, and waiting with their lighted ^;orchcs 
 fixed upon poles and portable silver chandeliers j then, when the 
 
 X 2
 
 308 liETTEES FKOM ITALY. 
 
 gangways covered with caqiet are placed from the vessels to the 
 shore, and first the full violet dresses of the Savii, next the 
 ample red robes of the Senators are imfolded upon the pave- 
 ment, and lastly when the old Doge adorned with his golden 
 Phrygian cap, in his long golden talar and his ermine 
 cloak, steps out of the vessel — when all this, I say, takes place 
 in a little square before the portal of a church, one feels as if 
 one were looking at an old worked tapestry, exceedingly well 
 designed and coloured. To me, northern fugitive as I am, this 
 ceremony gave a great deal of pleasure. With us, who parade 
 nothing but short coats in our processions of pomp, and wha 
 conceive nothing greater than one performed with shouldered 
 arms, such an affair might be out of place. But these trains, 
 these peaceful celebrations are aU in keeping here. 
 
 The Doge is a well-grown and well-shaped man, who, 
 perhaps, siSers from ill health, but, nevertheless, for dignity's 
 sake, bears himself upright under his heavy robe. In other 
 respects he looks like the grandpapa of the whole race, and 
 is kind and affable. His dress is very becoming, the little 
 cap, which he wears under the large one, does not offend the 
 eye, resting as it does upon the whitest and finest hair in the 
 world. 
 
 About fifty nohili, with long dark-red trains, were with 
 him. For the most part they were handsome men, and there 
 was not a single uncouth figiu-e among them. Several of them 
 were tall with large heads, so that the white curly wigs were 
 very becoming to them. Their features are prominent ; the 
 flesh of their faces is soft and white, -without looking flabby 
 and disagreeable. On the contrary, there is an appearance of 
 talent without exertion, repose, self-confidence, easiness of 
 existence, and a certain joyousness pervades the whole. 
 
 When all had taken their places in the church, and mass 
 began, the fraternities entered by the chief door, and wsnt 
 out at the side door to the right, after they had received holy 
 water in couples, and made their obeisance to the high altar, 
 to the Doge, and the nobility. 
 
 Oct. 6. 
 ITiis evening I bespoke the celebrated song of the mariaers, 
 who chaunt Tasso and Ariosto to melodies of their own. This
 
 VENICE. 309 
 
 must actually be ordered, as it is not to be heard as a thing, of 
 course, but rather belongs to the half forgotten traditions of 
 former times. I entered a gondola by moon-light, with one 
 singer before and the other behind me. They sing their song, 
 taking up the verses alternately. The melody, which we 
 know through Rousseau, is of a middle kind, between choral 
 and recitative, maintaining throughout the same cadence, with 
 out any fixed time. The modulation is also uniform, only 
 varying with a sort of declamation both tone and measixre, 
 according to the subject of the verse. But the spirit — the life 
 of it, is as follows: — 
 
 Without inquiring into the construction of the melody, 
 suffice it to say that it is admu-ably suited to that easy class 
 of people, who, always humming something or other to them- 
 selves, adapt such tunes to any little poem they know by 
 heart. 
 
 Sitting on the shore of an island, on the bank of a canal, or 
 on the side of a boat, a gondolier will sing away with a loud 
 penetrating voice — the multitude admire force above every- 
 tliing — anxious only to be heard as far as possible. Over the 
 silent miiTor it travels far. Another in the distance, who is 
 acquainted with the melody and knows the words, takes it up 
 and answers with the next verse, and then the first replies, 
 so that the one is as it were the echo of the other. The song 
 continues through whole nights and is kept up without fatigue. 
 The further the singers are from each other, the more touch- 
 ing sovmds the strain. The best place for the listener is 
 halfway between the two. 
 
 In order to let me hear it, they landed on the bank of the 
 Guidecca, and took up difierent positions by the canal. I 
 walked backwards and forwards between them, so as to leave 
 the one whose tiurn it was to sing, and to join the one who 
 had just left off. Then it was that the effect of the strain 
 first opened upon me. As a voice from the distance it 
 sounds in the liighest degree strange — as a lament without 
 sadness: it has an incredible effect and is moving even to 
 tears. I ascribed tliis to my own state of mind, but my old 
 boatsman said: "e singolare, como quel canto intenerisce, e 
 molto piu quando e piu ben cantato." He wished that I 
 could hear the women of the Lido, especially those of Mala- 
 mocco, and Pelestrina. These also, he told me, chaimted Tussu
 
 310 LETTERS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 and Ariosto to the same or similar melodies. He went on : 
 "in the evening, while their husbands are on the sea fishing, 
 they are accustomed to sit on the beach, and with shrill-pene- 
 trating voice to make these strains resound, imtil they catch 
 from the distance the voices of their partners, and in this 
 way they keep up a communication with them." Is not that 
 beautiful? and yet, it is very possible that one who heard 
 them close by, would take little pleasvu-e in such tones which 
 have to vie with the waves of the sea. Human, however, and 
 true becomes the song in this way : thus is hfe given to the 
 melody, on whose dead elements we should otherwise have 
 been sadly puzzled. It is the song of one solitary, singing at 
 a distance, in the hope that another of kindred feelings and 
 sentiments may hear and answer. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 8, 1786. 
 
 I paid a visit to the palace Pisani Moretta, for the sake of 
 a charming pictm-e by Paul Veronese. The females of the 
 family of Darius are represented kneeling before Alexander 
 and Hephsestion ; his mother, Avho is in the foreground, mis- 
 takes Hephaestion for the king; — turning away from her he 
 points to Alexander. A strange story is told about this 
 painting; the artist had been well received and for a long 
 time honorably entertained in the palace; in return he 
 secretly painted the picture and left it behind him as a 
 present, roUed up under his bed. Certainly it well deserves 
 to have had a singular origin, for it gives an idea of all the 
 pecidiar merits of this master. The great art >vith which he 
 manages by a skilful distribution of light and shade, and 
 by an equally clever contrast of the local colors, to pro- 
 duce a most delightful harmony without thro'W'ing any same- 
 ness of tone over the whole picture, is here most strikingly 
 visible. For the picture is in excellent preservation, and 
 stands before us almost with the freshness of yesterday. — 
 Indeed, whenever a painting of this order has suffered from 
 neglect, om* enjoyment of it is marred on the spot, even 
 before we are conscious what the cause may be. 
 
 Whoever feels disposed to quarrel with the artist on the 
 score of costume has only to say he ought to have painted a 
 scene of the sixteenth century ; and the matter is at an end.
 
 VENICE. 311 
 
 The gradation in the expression from the mother through the 
 wife to the daughters, is in the highest degree true and 
 happy. The youngest princess, who kneels behind all the 
 rest, is a beautiful girl, and has a very pretty, but somewhat 
 independent and haughty countenance. Her position does 
 not at all seem to please her. 
 
 October 8, 1786. 
 
 My old gift of seeing the world with the eyes of ^at artist, 
 whose pictures have most recently made an impression on me, 
 has occasioned me some peculiar reflections. It is evident 
 that the eye forms itself by the objects, which, from youth up, 
 it is accustomed to look upon, and so the Venetian artist 
 must see aU things in a clearer and brighter light than other 
 men. We, whose eye when out of doors, falls on a dingy 
 soil, which, when not muddy, is dusty, — and which, always 
 colourless, gives a sombre hue to the reflected rays, or at home 
 spend our lives in close, narrow rooms, can never attain to 
 such a cheerful view of nature. 
 
 As I floated down the lagunes in the full sunshine, and 
 observed how the figures of the gondoliers in their motley 
 oostimie, and as they rowed, lightly moving above the sides of 
 the gondola, stood out from the bright gi-een surface and against 
 the blue sky, I caught the best and freshest type possible of 
 the Venetian school. The sunshine brought out the local 
 colours with dazzling brilliancy, and the shades even were so 
 luminous, that, comparatively, they in their turn might serve 
 as lights. And the same may be said of the reflection from 
 the sea-green water. All was painted "chiaro nell chiaro," 
 so that foamy waves and lightning flashes were necessary to 
 give it a grand finish {um die Tiipfchen auf sie zn setzen). 
 
 Titian and Paul have this brilliancy in the highest degree, 
 and whenever wo do not find it in any of their works, the 
 piece is either damaged or has been touched up. 
 
 The cupola and vaulting of St. Mark's, with its side-walls, 
 — are covered with paintings — a mass of richly colored figures 
 on a golden gromid ; aU in mosaic work : some of them very 
 good, others but poor, according to the masters who furnished 
 the cartoons. 
 
 Circumstances here have strangely impressed on my mind
 
 312 LETTERS FROM ITALT. 
 
 how everything depends on the first invention, and that this 
 constitutes the right standard — the true genius — since with 
 Kttle square-pieces of glass (and here not in the soberest 
 manner), it is possible to imitate the good as well as the bad. 
 The art which furnished to the ancients their pavements, and 
 to the Christians the vaulted cieHiigs of theii* churches, fiitters 
 itself away in our days on snuff-box lids and bracelets-clasps. 
 The present times are worse even than one thinks. 
 
 Venice, October S, 1 786. 
 
 In the Farsetti palace there is a valuable collection of casts 
 from the best antiques. I pass over aU such as I had seen 
 before at Mannheim or elsewhere, and mention only new 
 acquaintances. A Cleopatra in intense repose, with the asp 
 coiled round her arm, and sinking into the sleep of death; — 
 a Niobe shrouding with her robe her youngest daughter from 
 the arrows of Apollo; — some gladiators; — a winged genius, 
 resting in his flight; — some philosophers, both in sitting and 
 standing postures. 
 
 They are works fi'om which, for thousands of years to come, 
 the world may receive delight and instruction, without ever 
 being able to equal with their thanks the merits of the artists. 
 
 Many speaking busts transported me to the old glorious 
 times. Only I felt, alas, how backward I am in these studies ; 
 however, I will go on with them — at least I know the way. 
 Palladio has opened the road for me to this and every other 
 art and life. That sounds probably somewhat strange, and 
 yet not so paradoxical as when Jacob Bohmc says that, by 
 seeing a pewter platter by a ray from Jupiter, he was en- 
 lightened as to the whole universe. There is also in this 
 collection a fragment of the entablature of the temple of An- 
 toninus and Faustina in Rome. 
 
 The bold front of this noble piece of architecture reminded 
 me of the capitol of the Pantheon at Mannheim. It is, indeed, 
 something very different from our queer saints, piled up one 
 above the other on little consoles after the gothic style of 
 decoration, — something different from our tobacco-pipe-Uke 
 shafts, — our little steeple-crowned towers, and foliated ter- 
 minals, — from aU taste for these — I am now, thank God, set 
 free for ever !
 
 VENICE. 31S 
 
 I will farther mention a few works of statuary, which, as I 
 passed along these last few days, I have obsen-ed with asto- 
 nishment and instruction : before the gate of the arsenal two 
 huge lions of white marble, — the one is half recumbent, rais- 
 ing himself up on his fore-feet, — the other is lying down: 
 noble emblems of the variety of life. They are of such huge 
 proportions, that all around appears little, and man himself 
 would become as nought, did not sublime objects elevate him. 
 They are of the best times of Greece, and were brought here 
 from the Piraeus in the better days of the Republic. 
 
 From Athens, too, in all probability, came two bas-reliefs 
 which have been introduced in the church of St. Justina, the 
 conqueress of the Turks. Unfortimately they are in some 
 degree hidden by the church seats. The sacristan called my 
 attention to them on account of the tradition that Titian 
 modelled from them the beautiful angel in his picture of the 
 martyrdom of St. Peter. The relievos represent genii who 
 are decking themselves out with the attributes of the gods, — 
 so beautiful in truth, as to transcend all idea or conception. 
 
 Next I contemplated with quite peculiar feelings the naked 
 colossal statue of Marcus Agrippa, in the court of a palace ; a 
 dolphin which is twisting itself by his side, points out the 
 naval hero. How does such a heroic representation make 
 the mere man equal to the gods! 
 
 I took a close view of the horses of S. Mark's. Looking 
 up at them from below, it is easy to see that they are spotted : 
 in places they exhibit a beautiful yeUow-metallic lustre, in 
 others a coppeiy green has run over them. Viewing them 
 more closely, one sees distinctly that once they were gilt all 
 over, and long streaks are still to be seen over them, as the bar- 
 barians did not attempt to file ofi" the gold, but tried to cut it 
 off. That, too, is well : thus the shape at least has been pre- 
 served. 
 
 A glorious team of horses, — I should like to hear the opinion 
 of a good judge of horse-flesh. What seemed strange to me 
 was, that closely viewed, they appear heavy, while from the 
 piazza below they look as light a*! deer.
 
 314 XETTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 October 8, 1786. 
 
 Yesterday I set out early with my tutelary genius for the 
 "Lido," the tongue of land which shuts in the lagunes, and 
 divides them from the sea. We landed and walked straight 
 across the isthmus. I heard a loud hollow murmur, — it was 
 the sea! I soon saw it: it crested high against the shore, 
 as it retired, — it was about noon, and time of ebb. I have 
 then at last seen the sea with my own eyes, and followed it 
 on its beautiful bed, just as it quitted it. I -n-ished the 
 children had been there to gather the shells ; child-like I 
 myself picked up plenty of them ; however, I attempted to 
 make them useful ; I tried to diy in them some of the fluid 
 of the cuttle fish, which here dai-t away from you in shoals. 
 
 On the "Lido," not far from the sea, is the burial place of 
 EngUshmen, and a little further on, of the Jews : both alike 
 are refused the privilege of resting in consecrated groimd. I 
 found here the tomb of Smith, the noble English consul, and 
 of his first wife. It is to him that I owe my first copy of 
 Palladio; I thanked him for it here in his imconsecrated 
 grave. And not only unconsecrated, but half bmied is the 
 tomb. The "Lido" is at best but a sand-bank (daune): The 
 sand is earned fr-om it backwards and forwards by the wind, 
 and thrown up in heaps is encroaching on eveiy side. In a 
 short time the monument, which is tolerably high, ■nill no 
 longer be visible. 
 
 But the sea — it is a grand st(/hi ! I wall try and get a sail 
 upon it some day in a fishing-boat : the gondolas never venture 
 out so far. 
 
 Oct. 8, 1786. 
 On the sea-coast I foimd also several plants, whose charac- 
 ters similar to others I already knew, enabled me to recognize 
 pretty well their properties. They are all alike, fat and 
 strong — full of sap and clammy, — and it is e-vident that the 
 old salt of the sandy soil, but stiU more the saline atmosphere, 
 gives them these properties. Like aquatic plants they aboimd 
 in sap, and are fleshy and tough, like mountauious ones ; those 
 whose leaves shew a tendency to put forth prickles, after the 
 manner of thistles, have them extremely sharp and strong. 
 I foimd a bush with leaves of this kind. It looked very much
 
 VENICE. 315 
 
 like our harmless coltsfoot, only here it is armed with, sharp 
 weapons, — the leaves like leather, as also are the seed-vessels, 
 and the stalk very thick and succulent. I bring ^^'ith me 
 seeds and specimens of the leaves. {Eryngium maritimum.) 
 
 The fish-market, with its numberless marine productions, 
 afforded me much amusement. I often go there to contem- 
 plate the poor captive inhabitants of the sea. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 9, 1786. 
 
 A delicious day fi'om morning to night! I have been 
 towards Chiozza, as far as Pelestrina, where arc the great 
 structures, called Murazzi, which the Republic has caused to 
 be raised against the sea. They are of hewn stone, and pro- 
 perly are intended to protect from the fury of the wild ele- 
 ment the tongue of land called the Lido, which separates the 
 lagoons from the sea. 
 
 The lagunes are the work of old nature. First of all, the land 
 and tide, the ebb and flow, working against one another, and 
 then the gradual sinking of the primal waters, were, together, 
 the causes why, at the upper end of the Adriatic, we find a 
 pretty extensive range of marshes, which, covered by the 
 flood-tide, are pailly left bare by the ebb. Art took pos- 
 session of the highest spots, and thus arose Venice, formed 
 out of a groupe of a hundi-ed isles, and sm-rounded by 
 hundreds more. Moreover, at an incredible expense of 
 money and labour, deep canals have been dug tlu'ough the 
 marshes, in order that at the time of high water, ships of war 
 might pass to the chief points. 'What human industry and 
 ^vit contrived and executed of old, skill and industry' must 
 now keep up. The Lido, a long narrow strip of land, sepa- 
 rates the lagunes from the sea, which can enter only at two 
 points — at the castle and at the opposite end near Chiozza. 
 The tide flows in usually twice a-day, and with the ebb 
 again carries out the waters twice, and always by the same 
 chamiel and in the same direction. The flood covers the 
 lower parts of the morass, but leaves the higher, if not diy, 
 yet visible. 
 
 The case would be quite altered were the sea to make new 
 ways for itself, to attack the tongue of land and flow in and 
 out wherever it chose. Not to mention that the little -sillages-
 
 316 XETTEKS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 on the Lido. Pelestrina, viz., S. Peter's and others woidd be 
 overwhelmed, the canals of communication would be choked 
 up, and while the water involved all in ruin, the Lido would 
 be changed into an island, and the islands which now lie 
 behind it be converted into necks and tongues of land. To 
 guard against this it was necessaiy to protect the Lido as far 
 as possible, lest the furious element shoidd capriciously attack 
 and overthi'ow what man had already taken possession of, and 
 with a certain end and purpose given shape and use to. 
 
 In extraordinary cases when the sea rises above measure, it is 
 especially necessary to prevent it entering at more than two 
 points. Accordingly the rest of the sluice-gates being shut, 
 with all its -v-iolence it is imable to enter, and in a few hours 
 submits to the law of the ebb, and its fury lessens. 
 
 Otherwise Venice has nothing to fear; the extreme slow- 
 ness with which the sea-line retires, assures to her thousands 
 of yeai's yet, and by prudently deepening the canals fi-om time 
 to time, they will easily maintain their possessions against the 
 inroads of the water. 
 
 I could only wish that they kept their streets a little 
 cleaner :— a duty which is as necessary as it is easy of per- 
 formance, and which in fact becomes of great consequence iji 
 the course of centuries. Even now in the principal thorough- 
 fares it is forbidden to throw anything into the canals : the 
 sweepings even of the streets may not be cast into them. No 
 measures, however, are taken to prevent the rain, which here 
 falls in sudden and violent torrents, from carrying off the dirt 
 which is collected in piles at the comer of every street, and 
 washing it into the lagunes — nay, what is stiU worse, into the 
 gutters for carrying off the water, which consequently are often 
 .so completely stopped up, that the principal squares are in 
 danger of being under water. Even in the smaller piazza of 
 S. Mark's, I have seen the gullies which are well laid down 
 there, as well as in the greater square, choked up and full of 
 water. 
 
 WTien a rainy day comes, the filth is intolerable ; eveiy 
 one is cursing and scolding. In ascending and descending 
 the bridges one soils one's mantle and great coat ( Taharro), 
 which is here worn all the year long, and as one goes along 
 in shoes and silk stockings, one gets splashed, and then scolds, 
 for it is not common mud, but mud that adheres and
 
 VKNICE. 317 
 
 stains that one is here splashed vnth. The weather soon 
 becomes tine again, and then no one thinks of cleaning the 
 streets. How true is the saying : the public is ever complain- 
 ing that is ill served, and never knows how to set about 
 getting better served. Here if the sovereign-people wished 
 it, it might be done forthwith. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 9, 1786. 
 
 Yesterday evening I ascended the tower of S. Mark's: as 
 I had lately seen from its top the lagunes in their glory at 
 flood time, I wished also to see them at low water ; for in 
 order to have a correct idea of the place, it is necessary to 
 take in both views. It looks rather strange to see land all 
 around one, where a little before the eye fell upon a mirror of 
 waters. The islands are no longer islands — ^merely higher and 
 housc-croAvned spots in one large morass of a gray-greenish 
 colour, and intersected by beautiful canals. The marshy parts 
 are overgrown with aquatic plants, a circumstance which must 
 tend in time to raise their level, although the ebb and flow are 
 continually shaking and tossing them and leave no rest to 
 the vegetation. 
 
 I now turn with my narrative once more to the sea. — T there 
 saw yesterday the haunts of the sea-snails, the limpets, and 
 the crab, and was highly delighted with the sight. What 
 a precious glorious object is a living thing! — how wonder- 
 fidly adapted to its state of existence, how true, how real 
 (^seyend). What great advantages do I not derive now from 
 my former studies of nature, and how delighted am I Avith the 
 opportunity of continuing them ! But as the present is a 
 matter that admits of being communicated to my friends, I 
 will not seek to excite their sympathy merely by exclamations. 
 
 The stone- works which have been built against the inroads 
 of the sea consist first of all of several steep steps; then 
 comes a slightly inclined plane, then again they rise a step, 
 which is once more succeeded by a gently ascending surface, 
 and last of all comes a perpendicular wall with an overhanging 
 coping — over these steps — over these planes the raging sea 
 rises until in extraordinary cases it even dashes over the high- 
 est'waU with its projecting head. 
 
 The sea is followed by its inhabitants ; — little periwinkles
 
 1518 XETTEBS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 good to eat, monovalve limpets, and wliatever else has the 
 power of motion, especially by the pungar-crabs. But 
 scarcely have these little creatxu-es taken possession of the 
 smooth walls, ere the sea retires again, swelling and crest- 
 ing as it came. At first the crowd knows not where they arc, 
 and keep hoping that the briny flood will soon retmn to them 
 — but it still keeps away; the sun comes out and quicklj- 
 dries them up, and now begins the retreat. It is on these 
 occasions that the pungars seek their prey. Nothing more 
 wonderful or comical can be seen than the manoeuvres of 
 these little creatures, with their round bodies and two long claws 
 (for the other spider-feet are scarcely worth noticing). On 
 these stilted fore-legs, as it were, they stride along watching 
 the limpets, and as soon as one moves itself under its shell on 
 the rock, a pungar comes up and inserting the point of his 
 claw in the tiny interstice between the shell and the rock 
 turns it over, and so manages to swallow the oyster. The 
 limpets, on the other hand, proceed cautiously on their way, 
 and by suction fasten themselves fii-mly to the rocky surface 
 as soon as they are aware of the proximity of their foe. In 
 such cases the pungar deports himself amusingly enough; 
 roimd and round the pulpy animal who keeps himseK safe 
 beneath his roof wiU he go with singular poHteness ; but not 
 succeeding with aU his coaxing and being unable to overcome 
 its powerful muscle, he leaves in despair this intended victim, 
 and hastens after another who may be wandering less cau- 
 tiously on his way. 
 
 I never saw a crab succeed in his designs, although I have 
 watched for hom-s the retreat of the little troop as they 
 crawled down the two planes and the intermediate steps. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 10, 1786. 
 At last I am able to sa^ that I have seen a comedy ; Yes- 
 terday at the theatre of St. Luke, was performed " Le Baruffe- 
 Chiozotte,''' which I should interpret the Frays and Feuds of 
 Chiozza. The " dramatis personcs^ are principally seafaring 
 people, inhabitants of Chiozza, with their wives, sisters, and 
 daughters. The usual noisy demonstrations of such sort of 
 people in their good or ill luck — their dealings one with 
 another, their vehemence, but goodness of heart, common-place
 
 VENICE. 319 
 
 remarks and unaffected manners, their naive wit and humoui- — 
 all this was excellently imitated. The ]piece, moreover, is 
 Goldoni's, and as I had been only the day before in the place 
 itself, and as the tones and manners of the sailors and people 
 of the sea-port stiU echoed in my ears and floated before my 
 eyes, it delighted me very much, and although I did not 
 understand a single allusion, I was, nevertheless, on the 
 whole, able to follow it pretty well. I will now give you the 
 plan of the piece : — it opens with the females of Chiozza sit- 
 ting, as usual, on the strand before theii- cabins, spinning, 
 mending nets, sewing, or making lace ; a youth passes by and 
 notices one of them with a more friendly greeting than the 
 rest. Immediately the joking begins — and observes no boimds ; 
 becoming tarter and tarter, and growing ill-tempered it soon 
 bursts out into reproaches ; abuse vies with abuse ; in the 
 midst of all one dame more vehement than the rest, boimces 
 out with the truth; and now an endless din of scolding, rail- 
 ing, and screaming ; there is no lack of more decided outrage, 
 and at last the peace-officers are compelled to interfere. 
 
 The second act opens with the Covirt of Justice. In the 
 absence of the Podesta (who as a noble could not lawfully be 
 brought upon the stage) the Actuarius presides. He orders 
 the women to be brought before him one by one. This gives rise 
 to an interesting scene. It happens that this official personage 
 is himself enamoured of the first of the combatants who is 
 brought before him. Only too happy to have an opportunity 
 of speaking with her alone, instead of hearing what she has to 
 say on the matter in question, he makes her a declaration of 
 love. In the midst of it a second woman, who is herseK in 
 love with the actuary, in a fit of jealousy rushes in, and with 
 her the suspicious lover of the first damsel — who is followed 
 by all the rest, and now the same demon of confiision riots 
 in the court as a little before, had set at loggerheads the 
 people of the harbour. In the third act the fun gets more 
 and more boisterous, and the whole ends with a hasty and 
 poor denouement. The happiest thought, however, of the 
 whole piece, is a character who is thus drawn, — an old sailor 
 who from the hardships he has been exposed to from his 
 childhood, trembles and falters in all his limbs, and even in his 
 very organs of speech, is brought on the scene to serve as a 
 foil to this restless, screaming, and jabbering crew. Before
 
 20 LETTERS rilOaf ITALY. 
 
 he can utter a word, he has to make a long preparation by it 
 slow twitching of his lips, and an assistant motion of his 
 hands and arms ; at last he blurts out what his thoughts are on 
 the matter in dispute. But as he can only manage to do this 
 in very short sentences, he acquires thereby a sort of laconic 
 gravity, so that all he utters sounds like an adage or maxim ; 
 and in this way a happy contrast is afforded to the wild and 
 passionate exclamations of the other personage*. 
 
 But even as it was, I never witnessed anything like the 
 noisy delight the people evinced at seeing themselves and 
 their mates represented with such truth of nature. It was 
 one continued laugh and tumultuous shout of exultation from 
 beginning to end. I must, however, confess that the piece was 
 extremely well acted by the players. According to the cast 
 of their several parts, they had adopted among them the dif- 
 ferent tones of voice which usually prevail among the inhabit- 
 ants of the place. The first actress was the universal favorite, 
 more so even than she had recently been in an heroic dress 
 and a scene of passion. The female players generally, but 
 especially this one, in the most pleasing manner possible 
 imitated the twang, the manners, and other peculiarities of 
 the people they represented. Great praise is due to the 
 author, who out of nothing has here created the most amusing 
 divertissement. However, he never could have done it with any 
 other people than his own merry and lighthearted countrymen. 
 The farce is written throughout with a practised hand. 
 
 Of Sacchi's company, for whom Gozzi wrote (but which 
 by-the-by is now broken up), I saw Smeraldina, a short 
 plump figure, full of life, tact, and good humour. With her 
 I saw Brighella — a slight well-made man and an excellent 
 actor, especially in pantomime. These masks which we 
 scarcely know except in the form of mummings, and which to 
 our minds possess neither life nor meaning, succeed here only 
 too well as the creation of the national taste. Here the most 
 distinguished characters, persons of every age and condition, 
 think nothing of dressing themselves out in the strangest 
 costumes, and as for the greater part of the year they are 
 accustomed to wander about in masks, they feel no surprise 
 at seeing the black visors on the stage also.
 
 VENICE. 321 
 
 Venice, October 11, 1V86. 
 Since solitude, in the midst of a great crowd of human 
 beings, is after all not possible, I have taken up with an old 
 Frenchman, who knows nothing of Italian, and suspects that 
 he is cheated on all hands and taken advantage of, and who, 
 with plenty of letters of recommendation, nevertheless, does 
 not make his way with the good people here. A man of 
 rank, and li\-ing in good style, but one whose mind cannot go 
 beyond himself and his own immediate circle — he is perhaps 
 full fifty, and has at home a boy seven years old, of whom he 
 is always anxious to get news. He is travelling thi-ough. 
 Italy for pleasure, but rapidly — in order to be able to say 
 that he has seen it, but is willing to learn whatever is pos- 
 sible as he hurries along. I have shewai liim some civilities, 
 and have given him information about many matters. While 
 I was speaking to him about Venice, he asked me how long 
 I had been here, aind when he heard that this Avas my first 
 visit, and that I had only been here fourteen days, he replied : 
 '■'Ilparaii que vous ri' avez pas perdu voire temps." This is the 
 first "testimonium" of my good behaviour that I can furnish 
 you. This is the eighth day since he an-ived here, and he 
 leaves us to-morrow. It was highly delicious to me, to meet 
 in a strange land vdth such a regular Versailles' -man. He is 
 now about to quit me ! It caused me some surprise to think 
 that any one could ever travel in this temper without a thought 
 for anything beyond himself, and yet he is in his way a 
 polished, sensible, and well conducted person. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 12, 1786. 
 Yesterday at S. Luke's a new piece was acted:— L'Tngli- 
 rismo in Italia (the English in Italy). As there are many 
 Englishmen living in Italy, it is not unnatural that their ways 
 and habits should excite notice, and I expected to learn from 
 this piece what the Italians thought of their rich and welcome 
 \isitors. But it was a total failm-e. There Avcre, of course, 
 (as is always the case here,) some clever scenes between buf- 
 foons, but the rest was cast altogether in too grave and hea-sy 
 a mould, and yet not a trace of the English good sense; 
 plenty of the ordinaiy Italian commonplaces of morality, and. 
 those, too, upon the very commonest of topics. 
 Vol. II. Y
 
 322 lETTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 And it did not take : indeed, it was on the very point of 
 being hissed off the stage. The actors felt themselves out of 
 their element — not on the strand of Chiozza. As this was 
 the last piece that I saw here, my enthusiasm for these 
 national representations did not seem likely to be increased by 
 tliis piece of foUy. 
 
 As I have at last gone through my journal and entered 
 some occasional remarks from, my tablets, my proceedings 
 are now enrolled and left to the sentence of my friends. There 
 is, I am conscious, very much in these leaves which 1 might 
 qualify, enlarge upon, and improve. Let, however, what 
 is ^vritten, stand as the memorial of first impressions, which, 
 if not always correct, will nevertheless be ever dear and 
 precious to me. Oh that I could but transmit to my friends 
 a breath merely of this light existence! Verily to the 
 Italian, " ultramontane " is a very vague idea; and to me 
 even — " beyond the Alps," rises very obscurely before my mind, 
 although from out of their mists friendly forms are beckoning 
 to me. It is the climate only that seduces me to prefer awhile 
 these lands to those ; for birth and habit forge strong fetters. 
 Here, however, I could not live, nor indeed in any place where 
 I had nothing to occupy ray mind; but at present novelty fur- 
 nishes me here with endless occupation. Architecture rises, 
 lilve an ancient spirit from the tombs, and bids me study its laws 
 just as people do the rules of a dead language, not in order to 
 practise or to take a li\'ing joy in them, but only in order to 
 enable myself in the quiet depths of my own mind to do honor to 
 her existence in bygone ages, and her for ever departed glorj-. 
 As Palladio everywhere refers one to Vitruvius, I have bovight 
 an edition of the latter by Galiani; but this folio suffers in 
 my portmanteau as much as my brain does in the study of it. 
 Palladio by his words and works, by his method and way, 
 both of thinking and of executing, has brought Vitruvius 
 home to me and interpreted him f;ir better than the Italian 
 translator ever can. Vitruvius himself is no easy reading; 
 his book is obscurely written, and requires a critical study. 
 Notwithstanding I have read it through cursorily, and it has 
 left on my mind many a glorious impression. To express my 
 meaning better : I read it like a breviary: more out of devo- 
 tion, than for instruction. Already the days begin to draw 
 in and allow more time for reading and writing.
 
 VENICE. 323 
 
 God be praised ! whatever from my youtlx up appeared to 
 me of worth, is begimiing once more to be dear to Me. How 
 happy do I feel that I can again venture to approach the 
 ancient authors. For now, I may dare teil it — and confess at 
 once my disease and my folly. For many a long year I could 
 not bear to look at a Latin author, or to cast my 'eye upon any- 
 thing that might serve to awaken in my mind the thoughts 
 of Italy. If by accident I did so, I suffered the most horrible 
 tortures of mind. It was a frequent joke of Herder's at 
 my expense, that I had learned aU my Latin fr'om Spinoza, 
 for he had noticed that this was the only Latin work I ever 
 read ; but he was not aware how carefully I was obliged to 
 keep myself fi-om the ancients — how even these abstruse 
 generalities were but cursorily read by me, and even then not 
 without pain. At last matters came to that pitch that even 
 the perusal of Wieland's translation of the Satires made me 
 utterly wretched ; scarcely had I read two of them, before I 
 was compelled to lay the book aside. 
 
 Had I not made the resolve, which I am now carrying into 
 effect, I should have been altogether lost — to such a dcgi-ee 
 of intensity had the desire grown to see these objects with 
 my own eyes. Historical acquaintance with them did me no 
 good ; — the things stood only a hand's-breadth away from 
 me ; but still they were separated fr'om me by an impene- 
 trable wall. And, in fact, at the present moment, I somehow 
 feel as if this were not the first time that I had seen these 
 things, but as if I were paying a second \isit to them. Al- 
 though I have been but a short time in Venice, I have 
 adapted myself prettj' vf ell to the ways of the place, and feel 
 confident that I shall cai'iy away with me, though a very 
 incomplete, yet, nevertheless, clear and true idea of it. 
 
 Venice, Oct. 14, 1786. 
 2 d'clocJ:, morning. 
 In the last moments of my stay here : for I am to start 
 almost immediatel)" with the packet-boat for Fcrrara. I quit 
 Venice without reluctance; for to stay here longer with anv 
 satisfaction and profit to myself, I must take other steps 
 which would carry me beyond my present plan. Besides 
 everybody is now leaving this city and making for thcT beau- 
 
 T li
 
 324 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 tiful gardens and seats on the Terra-Firma; I, however, go 
 away well-loaded, and shall carry along with me its rich, rare, 
 and unique image. 
 
 FROM FERRARA TO ROME. 
 
 Oct. 16, 1786. 
 Early and on hoard the packet. 
 My travelling companions, male and female alike, are all 
 still fast asleep in their berths. For my part I have passed 
 the two nights on deck, viTapped up in my cloak. It was 
 only towards morning that I felt it at all cold.. I am now 
 actually in latitude forty-five, and yet go on repeating my 
 old song : I would gladly leave all to the inhabitants of the 
 land, if only, after the fashion of Dido, I could enclose enough 
 of the heavens to surroimd our dwellings Avith. It would 
 then be quite another state of existence. The voyage in this 
 glorious weather has been most delightful, the views and 
 prospects simple but agreeable. The Po, with its fertilizing 
 stream, flows here through wide plains ; nothing, however, is 
 to be seen but its banks covered with trees or bushes ; — ^j'ou 
 catch no distant view. On this river, as on the Adige, are 
 silly water- works, which arc as rude and ill-constructed as 
 those on the Saal. 
 
 Ferrara, Oct. 16, 1786. 
 At night. 
 
 Although I only arrived here early this morning (by 7 
 o'clock, German time), I am thinking of setting off again to- 
 morrow morning. For the first time since I left home, a 
 feeling of dissatisfaction has fallen upon me in this great and 
 beautiful, but flat and depopulated city. These streets, now 
 so desolate, were, however, once kept in animation by a bril- 
 liant court. Here dwelt Ariosto discontented, and Tasso 
 unhappy, and so, we fancy, Ave gain edification by visiting 
 such scenes. Ariosto' s monument contains much marble — 
 ill arranged; for Tasso's prison, they shew you a wood-house 
 or coalhouse Avhere, most assuredly, he never Avas kept. 
 Moreover, the people pretend to know scarcely anything you
 
 FEKEAIIA. — CENTO. 325 
 
 may ask about. But at last for "somethiug to drink"' they 
 manage to remember. All this brings to my mind Luther's 
 ink-spots, Avhich the housekeeper freshens up from time to 
 time. Most travellers, however, are little better than our 
 '■^ Handwerlisbursclien'''' or stolling journeymen, and content 
 themselves with such palpable signs. For my part I became 
 quite suUvy, and took little interest even in a beautiful insti- 
 tute and academy, which a cardinal, a native of Ferrara, 
 founded and endowed; however, some ancient monuments, 
 in the Ducal Palace, served to revive me a little ; and I was 
 put in perfect good humor by a beautiful conception of a 
 painter, John the Baptist before Herod and Herodias. The 
 prophet, in his well-linown dress of the wilderness, is pointing 
 indignantly at Herodias. Quite mimoved, she looks at the 
 prince, who is sitting by her side, while the latter regards the 
 prophet with a calm but cunning look ; a wliite middle-sized 
 greyhound stands before the king, while from beneath the 
 robe of Herodias, a small Italian one is peeping — both 
 giving tongue at the prophet. To my mincl, this is a most 
 happy thought. 
 
 Cento, Oct. 17, 1786. 
 
 In a better temper than yesterday, I write you to-day from 
 Guercino's native city. It, however, is quite a different place: 
 an hospitable well-built little town, of nearly 5000 inhabitants, 
 floiu-ishing, full of life, cleanly, and situated in a well cul- 
 tivated plain, which stretches farther than the eye can reach. 
 According to my usual custom, I ascended the tower. A sea 
 of poplars, between which, and near at hand, one caught 
 glimpses of little country-houses, each surroimded by its 
 fields. A rich soil and a beautiful climate. It was an 
 autumn evening, such as we seldom have to thank even sum- 
 mer for. The sky, which had been veiled all da}', has cleared 
 up, the clouds rolling off north and south towards the momi- 
 tains, and I hope for a bright day to-moiTOW. 
 
 Here I first saw the Apennines, which I am approaching. 
 The winter in this region lasts only tlirough December and 
 January: April is rainy — for the rest of the year beautiful 
 weather, according to the nature of the season. Incessant 
 rain is unknown. September here, to tell you the truth, was
 
 326 XETXEKS FROM ITALT. 
 
 finer and warmer than August with you. The Apennines in 
 the south have received a warm greeting from me, for I 
 have now had enough of the plain. To-morrow I shall be 
 writing at the foot of them. 
 
 Guercino loved his native town : indeed, the Italians almost 
 universally cherish and maintain this sort of local patriotism, 
 and it is to this beautilul feeling that Italy owes so many of 
 its valuable institutions and its multitude of local sanctuaries. 
 Under the management of this master, an academy of paint- 
 ing was formed here. He left behind him many paintings, 
 which his to^vnsmen are still very proud of, and which, 
 indeed, fuUy justify their pride. 
 
 Guercino is here a sacred name, and that, too, in the 
 mouths of children as well as of the old. 
 
 Most charmed was I with his picture, representing the 
 risen Lord, appearing to his mother. KneeHng before Him, 
 she looks upon Him with indescribable affection. Her left 
 hand is touching His body just \mder the accursed wound 
 which mars the whole picture. His hand Hes upon her neck; 
 aud in order the better to gaze upon her, his body is slightly 
 bent back. This gives to His figure a somewhat strange, not 
 to say forced appearance. And yet for aU that it is infinitely 
 beautiful. The cahn and sad look, with which He contem- 
 plates her, is unique and seems to convey the impression that 
 before His noble soul there stiU floats a remembrance of His 
 own sufferings and of hers, which the resurrection had not at 
 once dispelled. 
 
 Strange has engraved the picture. I wish that my friends 
 could see even his copy of it. 
 
 After it a Madoima won my admiration. The child wants 
 the breast ; she modestly shrinks from exposing her bosom. 
 Natm-al, noble, exquisite, and beautiftd. 
 
 Further, a Mary, who is guiding the arm of the infant 
 Christ, standing before her \\T.th His face towards the people, 
 in order that with uplifted fingers He may bestow His bles- 
 sings upon them. Judged by the spirit of the Roman Catho- 
 lic legends, this must be pronounced a very happy idea. It 
 has been often repeated. 
 
 Guercino is an intrinsically bold, mascidine, sensible pain- 
 ter, without roughness. On the contraiy, his pieces possess 
 a certain tender moral grace, a reposeful freedom and gran- 
 
 il
 
 BOLOG>-A. 327 
 
 deur, but with all that, a certain mannerism, so that when the 
 eye once has gro-mi accustomed to it, it is impossible to mis- 
 take a piece of his hand. The Ughtness, cleanness, and finish 
 of his touch are perfectly astonishing. For his draperies he 
 is joarticularly fond of a beautiful brownish-red blend of 
 colours. These harmonize very well with the blue which he 
 loves to combine with them. 
 
 The subjects of the other paintings are more or less im- 
 happily chosen. The good artist has strained all his powers, 
 but his invention and execution alike are thrown away and 
 wasted. However, I derived both entertainment and profit 
 from the view of this cycle of art, although such a hasty and 
 rapid glance as I could alone bestow upon them, affords but 
 little, either of gratification or instruction. 
 
 Bologna, Oct. 18, 1786. 
 Night. 
 
 Yesterday I started very early — before daybreak — from 
 Cento, and arrived here in pretty good time. A brisk and 
 weU-educated cicerone having learned that I did not intend to 
 make a long stay here, hurried me through all the streets, 
 and into so many palaces and chm-ches that I had scarcely 
 time to set down in my note-book the names of them, and I 
 hardly know if hereafter, when I shall look again at these 
 scrawls, I shall be able to call to mind all the particulars. I 
 will now mention, however, a coujile or so of objects which 
 stand out bright and clear enough as they afibrded me a real 
 gratification at the time. 
 
 Ffrst of aU the Cecilia of Raphael ! It was exactly what I 
 had ])een told of it ; but no-'v I saw it with my own eyes. He 
 has invariably accomphshed that which others wished in vain 
 to accomplish, and I would at present say no more of it than 
 that it is by him. Five saints, side by side, not one of them has 
 anything in common witliMs; however then- existence, stands 
 so perfectly real that one would wish for the pictm-e to last 
 through eternity, even though for himself he could be content 
 to be annihilated. But in order to imderstand Raphael aright, 
 and to form a just appreciation of liim, and not to praise him 
 as a god or as Melchisedec " without descent" or pedigree, it 
 is necessary to study his masters and liis predecessors. These,
 
 S28 XETTEKS TROSt ITALY. 
 
 too, had a standing on the firm soil of truth : diligently, not to 
 say anxious]}', they had laid the foundation, and -vded with 
 each other in raising, step by step, the pjTamid aloft, until, 
 at last, profiting by all their labors, and enlightened by a 
 heavenly genius, Raphael set the last stone on the summit, 
 above which, or even at which, no one else can ever stand. 
 
 Oui' interest in the histor}' of art becomes pcculialy lively 
 when we consider the works of the old masters. Francesco 
 Francia is a very respectable artist. Pietro Perugino, so bold 
 a man that one might almost call him a noble German feUow. 
 Oh that fate had carried Albert Diirer further into Italy. In 
 Munich I saw a couple of pieces by him of incredible gran- 
 deur. The poor man, how did he mistake his owti worth in 
 Venice, and make an agreement with the priests, on which he- 
 lost weeks and months! See him in his jom-ney through the 
 Netherlands exchanging his noble works of art for parrots, 
 and in order to save his " douceur," drawing the portraits of 
 the domestics, who bring him — a plate of fruit. To me the 
 history of such a poor fool of an artist is infinitely touching. 
 
 Towards evening I got out of this ancient, venerable, and 
 learned city, and extricated myself from its crowds, who, pro- 
 tected fi'om the sun and weather by the arched bowers which 
 are to be seen in almost every street, walk about, gape about, 
 or buy, and sell, and transact whatever business they may 
 have. I ascended the tower and enjoyed the pure air. Tlic 
 view is glorious! To the north we see the hills of Padua; 
 beyond them the Swiss, Tyrolese, and Friulian Alps; in short, 
 the whole northern chain, Avhich, at the time, was enveloped 
 in mist. Westward there stretched a boundless horizon, 
 above which the towers of Modena alone stood out. Towards 
 the east a similar plain reaching to the shores of the Adriatic, 
 whose waters might be discerned in the setting sun. Towards 
 the south, the first hills of the Apennines, which, Hke the 
 Vicentine HUls, are planted up to their summits, or covered 
 with chiu'ches, palaces, and summer-houses. The sky was 
 perfectly clear, not a cloud to be seen, only on the horizon a 
 kind of haze. The keeper of the tower assured me that for 
 six years this mist had never left the distance. Othenvisc, 
 by the help of a telescope, you might easily discern the hiUs 
 of Vicenza, with their houses and chapels, but now very 
 jarely. even on the brightest days. And tliis mist lay chiefly
 
 BOLOGXA, 329 
 
 on the Northern Chain, and makes our beloved Fatherland a 
 regular Cimmeria. In proof of the salubrity of the situation 
 and piu-e atmosphere of the city, he called my notice to the fact, 
 that the roofs of the houses looked quite fresh, and that not a 
 single tile was attacked by damp or moss. It must be confessed 
 that the tiles look quite clean, and beautiful enough, but the 
 good quality of the brick-earth may have something to do 
 with this; at least we know that, in ancient times, excellent 
 tiles were made in these parts. 
 
 The leaning tower has a frightful look, and yet it is most 
 probable that it was built so by design. The following seems 
 to me the explanation of this absurdity. In the disturbed 
 times of the city every large edifice was a fortress, and every 
 powerful family had its tower. By and bye the possession 
 of such a building became a mark of splendour and distinc- 
 tion, and as, at last, a perpendicular tower was a common and 
 everj'-day thing, an oblique one was built. Both architect 
 and owner have obtained their object; the multitude of slen- 
 der, upright towers are just looked at, and all hurry to see the 
 leaning one. Afterwards I ascended it. The bricks are all 
 arranged horizontally. With clamps and good cement one 
 may build any mad whim. 
 
 Bologna, Oct. 19, 1786. 
 
 I have spent this day to the best advantage I could in visit- 
 ing and revisiting ; but it is with art as with the world : the 
 more we study it the larger we find it. In tliis heaven new 
 stars are constantly appearing which I cannot count, and 
 which sadly puzzle me ; the Carracci, a Guido, a Dominichino, 
 who shone forth in a later and happier period of art, but truly 
 to enjoy whom requires both knowledge and judgment which 
 I do not possess, and which cannot be acquired" in a hui-ry. 
 A great obstacle to our taking a pure delight in their pictm-es, 
 and to an immediate understanding of their merits, is the 
 absm-d subjects of most of them. To admire or to be charmed 
 with them one must be a madman. 
 
 It is as though the sons of God had wedded with the daughters 
 of men, and out of such an union many a monster had sprung 
 into existence. No sooner are you attracted by the gnsto of 
 a Guido and his pencil, by AvJiich nothing but the most excel-
 
 380 XEXTEKS FKOM ITAXY. 
 
 lent objects the eye sees are worthy to be painted, but j'on. at 
 once, withdraw yom- eyes from a subject so abominably 
 stupid that the world has no term of contempt sufficient to 
 express its meanness; and so it is throughout. It is ever 
 anatomy — an execution — a flaying scene — always some suffer- 
 ing, never an action of the hero — ^never an interest in the 
 scene before you — always something for the fancy — some 
 excitement accruing from without. Nothing but deeds of 
 horror or convidsive sufferings, malefactors or fanatics, along- 
 side of whom the artist, in order to save his art, iuA'ariably slips 
 in a naked boy or a pretty damsel as a spectator, in every case 
 treating his spiritual heroes as little better than lay-figiu-es 
 {gUedermanner), on which to hang some beautiful mantle 
 with its folds. In all there is nothing that suggests a human 
 notion! Scarcely one subject in ten that ever ought to have 
 been painted, and that one the painter has chosen to view 
 from any but the right point of view. 
 
 Guido's great pietm-e in the Church of the Mendicants is 
 all that painting can do, but, at the same time, all that 
 absurdity coidd task an artist with. It is a votive piece. I 
 can well believe that the whole consistoiy praised it, and also 
 devised it. The two angels, Avho were fit to console a Psyche 
 in her misery, must here .... 
 
 The S. Proclus is a beautifid figure, but the others — 
 bishops and popes! Below are heavenly children playing 
 with attributes. The jDainter, who had no choice left him, 
 labom-ed to help himself as best he could. He exerted himself 
 merely to show that he was not the barbarian. Two naked 
 figures by Guido ; a St. John in the Wilderness ; a Sebastian, 
 how exquisitely painted, and what do they say? the one is 
 gaping and the other wriggling. 
 
 Were I to contemplate history in my present iU humor, I 
 should say. Faith revived art, but Superstition immediately 
 made itself master of it, and ground it to the dust. 
 
 After dinner, seeming somewhat of a milder temper and 
 less arrogantly disposed than in the morning, I entered the fol- 
 lowing remarks in my note-book. In the palace of the Tanari 
 there is a famous picture by Guido, the Virgin suckling the 
 infant Saviour — of a size rather larger than life — the head as 
 if a god had painted it, — indescribable is the expression with 
 which she gazes upon the sucldng infant. To me it seems a
 
 BOLOGNA. 331 
 
 calm, profound resignation, as if she were nom-isliing not the 
 child of her joy "and love, but a supposititious, heavenly 
 changeling; and goes on suclding it because now she cannot 
 do otheiTvise, although, in deep humility, she wonders how 
 she ever came to do it. The rest of the canvass is filled up 
 with a mass of drapery which connoisseurs highly prize. 
 For my part I know not what to make of it. The colours, too, 
 are somewhat dim; the room and the day were none of the 
 brightest. 
 
 Notwithstanding the confusion in which I find myself I yet 
 feel that experience, knowledge, and taste, abcady come to my 
 aid in these mazes. Thus I was greatly won by a " Cir- 
 cumcision" by Guercino, for I have begun to loiow and to 
 understand the man. I can now pardon the intolerable sub- 
 ject and delight in the masterly execution. Let him paint 
 whatever can be thought of, everything will be praiseworthy 
 and as highly finished as if it were enamel. 
 
 And thus it happened with me as with Balaam the over- 
 ruled prophet, who blessed where he thought to cm-se ; and I 
 fear this would be the case still oftener were I to stay here 
 much longer. 
 
 And then, again, if one happens to meet with a pictm*e after 
 Eajihael, or what may with at least some probability be 
 ascribed to him, one is soon perfectly cured and in good tem- 
 per again. I fell in yesterday with a S. Agatha, a rare 
 picture, though not throughout in good keeping. The artist 
 has given to her the mien of a young maiden fuU of health 
 and self-possession, but yet without rusticity or coldness. I 
 have stamped on my mind both her form and look, and shall 
 mentally read before her my " Iphigenia," and shall not allow 
 my heroine to express a sentiment wliioh the saint herself 
 might not give utterance to. 
 
 And now when I think again of this sweet bm-den which I 
 cany with me throughout my wanderings, I cannot conceal 
 the fact that, besides the great objects of natm-e and art, 
 which I have yet to work my way thi'ough, a wonderfid train 
 of poetical images keeps rising before me and unsettling me. 
 From Cento to this place I have been, wishmg to continue my 
 labors on the Iphigenia, but what has happened ? inspii-ation. 
 has brought before my mind the plan of an " Iphigenia at 
 Delphi,"' and I must work it out. I wiU here set down the 
 argument as briefly as possible.
 
 332 LETTERS Ti-iCU ITALY. 
 
 Electra, confidently hoping that Orestes w-ill bring to Delphi 
 the image of the Taui'ian Diana, makes her appearance in the 
 Temple of Apollo, and as a final sin-offering dedicates to the 
 god, the axe which has perpetrated so many hon-ors in the 
 house of Pelops. Unhappily she is, at this moment, joined 
 by a Greek, A^-ho recounts to her how, having accompanied 
 Pylades and Orestes to Tauvis, he there saw the two friends 
 led to execution, but had himself luckily made his escape. 
 At this news the passionate Electra is imable to restrain her- 
 self, and knows not whether to vent her rage against the gods 
 or against men. 
 
 In the mean time Iphigenia, Orestes, and Pylades have 
 arrived at Delphi. The heavenly calmness of Iphigenia con- 
 trasts remarkably wdth the eai-thly vehemence of Electra, as 
 the two sisters meet without knowing each other. The fugi- 
 tive Greek gains sight of Iphigenia, and recognizing in her the 
 priestess, who was to have sacrificed the two friends, makes 
 it knov\-n to Electra. The latter snatching the axe from the 
 altar, is on the point of killing Iphigenia, when a happy 
 incident averts tliis last fearful calamity from the two sisters. 
 This situation, if only I can succeed in working it out well, 
 w^ill probably fm-nish a scene unequalled for grandeur or 
 pathos by any that has yet been produced on the stage. But 
 where is man to get time and hands for such a work, even if 
 the spirit be ■willing. 
 
 As I feel myself at present somewhat oppressed with such 
 a flood of thoughts of the good and desirable, I cannot help 
 reminding my friends of a di'eam which I had about a year 
 ago, and which appeared to me to be highly significant. I 
 dreamt forsooth, that I had been sailing about in a little boat 
 and had landed on a fertile and richly cultivated island, of 
 which I had a consciousness that it bred the most beautiful 
 pheasants in the world. I bargained, I thought, with the 
 people of the island for some of these birds, and they killed 
 and brought them to me in great numbers. They were phea- 
 sants indeed, but as in dreams aU things are generally changed 
 and modified, they seemed to have long, richly coloured tails, 
 like the loveliest birds of Paradise, and with eyes like those 
 of the peacock. Bringing them to me by scores, they 
 arranged them in the boat so skilfully with the heads inwards, 
 the long variegated feathers of the tail hangiug outwards, as
 
 BOLOGNA. 333 
 
 to form in the bright sunshine the most glorious pile conceivable, 
 and so large as scarcely to leave room enough in the bow and 
 the stem for the rower and the steersman. As with this load 
 the boat made its way through the tranquil waters, I named 
 to myself the fi-iends among whom I should like to distribute 
 those variegated treasures. At last, arri\ing in a spacious 
 harbour, I was almost lost among great and many masted 
 vessels, as I mounted deck after deck in order to discover a 
 place where I might safely nm my little boat ashore. 
 
 Such dreamy visions have a charm, inasmuch as springing 
 from our mental state, they possess more or less of analogy 
 with the rest of our lives and fortunes. 
 
 But now I have also been to the famed scientific building, 
 called the Institution or "Gli Studj." The edifice is large, 
 and the inner coiu't especially has a very imposing appearance, 
 although not of the best style of architecture. In the stair- 
 cases and corridors there was no want of stuccoes and fres- 
 coes : they are aU appropriate and suitable, and the numerous 
 objects of beauty, which, well worth seeing, are here collected 
 together, justly command our admiration. For all that, 
 however, a German, accustomed to a more liberal course of 
 study than is here pm-sued, will not be altogether content 
 with it. 
 
 Here again a former thought occurred to me, and I could 
 not but reflect on the pertinacity which in spite of time, which 
 changes aU tilings, man shows in adhering to the old shapes 
 of his public buildings, even long after they have been applied 
 to new piirposes. Our churches still retain the form of the Basi- 
 lica, although probably the plan of the temple would better suit 
 our worship. In Italy the courts of justice arc as spacious 
 and lofty as the means of a community are able to make 
 them. One can almost fancy oneself to be in the open air, 
 where once justice used to be administered. And do we not 
 build our great theatres with their offices under a roof exactly 
 similar to those of the fii'st theatrical booths of a fair, which 
 were hurriedly put together of planks ? The vast multitude 
 of those in whom, about the time of the Reformation, a thii'st 
 for knowledge was awakened, obliged the scholars at our 
 ■universities to take shelter as they could in the burghers'
 
 334 XETTEES FEOM ITALY. 
 
 houses, and it was very long before any colleges for pupils 
 {W^aisenhduser), were built, thereby facilitating for the poor 
 youths the acquii-ement of the necessary education for the 
 A\rorld. 
 
 I have spent the whole of this bright and beautiful day 
 xmder the open heaven: scarcely do I ever come near a moun- 
 tain, but my interest in rocks and stones again I'evives. I 
 feel as did Antceus of old, who found himself endued with 
 new strength, as often as he was brought into fresh contact 
 with his mother earth. I rode towards Palermo, where is 
 found the so-called Bolognese sulphate of Baiytes, out of 
 which are made the little cakes Avhich, being calcined, shine 
 in the dark, if previously they have been exposed to the light, 
 and which the people here call shortly and expressively 
 "fosfori." 
 
 On the road, after leaving behind me a hilly track of argil- 
 laceous sandstone, I came upon vrhole rocks of selenite, quite 
 visible on the surface. Near a brickkiln a cascade precipi- 
 tates its waters, into which many smaller ones also empty 
 themselves. At first sight the ti'aveller might suppose he saw 
 before him a loamy hiU, which had been worn away by the 
 rain ; on a closer examination I discovered its tiixe natiu-e to 
 be as follows : — the soHd rock of which this part of the line 
 of hills consists is schistous, bituminous clay of very fine 
 sti-ata, and alternating with gypsum. The schistous stone is 
 so intimately blended with pyrites that, exposed to the air 
 and moisture, it wholly changes its nature. It swells, the 
 strata gradually disappear, and there is formed a kind of pot- 
 ter's clay, crumbling, shelly, and glittering on the surface like 
 stone-coal. It is only by examining large pieces of both (I 
 myself broke several, and observed the forms of both), that it 
 is possible to convince oneself of the transition and change. 
 At the same time we observed the shelly strata studded 
 with white points, and occasionally also variegated with 
 yellow particles. In this way, by degrees, the whole sm-face 
 crumbles away, and the hiU. looks like a mass of weather- 
 worn pyrites on a large scale. Among the lamina some are 
 harder, of a green and red color. Pyrites I very often found 
 disseminated in the rock. 
 
 I now passed along the channels which the last violent
 
 BOLOGNA. rEGA^'0. 335 
 
 giillies of rain had -vvoni in the cnmibling rock, and to my 
 great delight found many specimens of the desired barj^tes, 
 mostly of an imperfect egg-shape, peeping out in several 
 places of the friable stone, some tolerably pure, and some 
 slightly mingled with the clay in which they Avere imbedded. 
 That they have not been carried hither by external agency 
 any one may convince himself at the first glance; whether 
 they were contemporaneous with the schistous clay, or whe- 
 ther they first arose from the swelling and dissolving of the 
 latter, is matter calling for further inquiry. Of the specimens 
 I found, the larger and smaller approximated to au imperfect 
 egg-shape ; the smallest might be said to verge upon irregulai' 
 crystalline forms. The heaviest of the pieces I brought 
 away weighed seventeen loth (8|- oz.) Loose in the same clay, 
 I also found perfect crystals of gypsum. Mineralogists will 
 be able to point out further peculiarities in the specimens I 
 bring with me. And I was now again loaded with stones ! 
 I have packed up at least half a quarter of a hundred- weight. 
 
 Oct. 20, 1786, in the nig Jit. 
 How much should I have stiU to say, were I to attempt to 
 confess to you all that in this beautiful day has passed through 
 my mind. But my wishes are more powerful than my 
 thoughts. I feel myself hm-ried iiTCsistibly forward; itisonl}' 
 ■with an efibrt that I can collect myself sufficiently to attend to 
 what is before me. And it seems as if heaven heard my secret 
 prayer. Word has just been brought me that there is <a 
 vetturino going straight to Rome, and so the day after to- 
 morrow I shall set out direct for faat city ; I must, therefore, 
 to-day and to-morrow, look after my affaii-s, make all my 
 little arrangements, and despatch my many commissions. 
 
 Legano on the Apennines, 
 Oct. 21, 1786. 
 Whether I have to-day left Bologna, or Avhethcr I have 
 been driven out of it, I camiot say. "Enough that I eagerly 
 availed myself of an earlier opportimity of quitting it. And 
 so here I am at a wretched inn. in company with an 'officer of 
 the Pope's army, who is going to Perugia, where he was born.
 
 336 XETTERS FK03I ITALY. 
 
 In order to say something as I seated myself by his side in 
 the two-wheeled carriage, I paid him the compliment of 
 remarking, that as a German accustomed to associate \A'ith 
 soldiers, I fomid it very agreeable to have to travel with an 
 officer of the Pope. " Pray do not," he replied, " be offended 
 at what I am about to answer — it is all very well for you to be 
 fond of the military profession, for, in Germany, as I have 
 heard, everything is military; but \\dth regard to myself, 
 although our service is light enough, so that in Bologna, 
 where I am in garrison, I can do just as I like, still I heartily 
 wish I were rid of this jacket, and had the disposal of my 
 father's little property. But I am a younger son and so 
 must be content." 
 
 Oct. 22, 1786. Evening. 
 
 Here, at Cii-edo, which also is a little paltrj- place on the 
 Apennines, I feel myself quite happy, knowing that I am 
 advancing towards the gratification of my dearest wishes. 
 To-day we were joined by a riding party — a gentleman and a 
 lady — an Englishman and a soi-disant sister. Their horses 
 are beautiful, but they ride unattended by any servants, and 
 the gentleman, as it appears, acts the part both of groom and 
 valet de chambre. Everywhere they find something to com- 
 plain of — to listen to them is like reading a few pages out of 
 Archenholz's book. 
 
 To me the Apennines are a most remarkable portion of the 
 world. The great plains of the basin of the Po are followed 
 by a hilly tract which rises out of the bottom, in order, after 
 nmning between the two seas, to form the southern extremity 
 of the Continent. If the hills had been not quite so steep 
 and high above the level of the sea, and had not their direc- 
 tions crossed and recrossed each other as they do, the ebb and 
 flow of the tides in primeval times might have exercised 
 a greater and wider influence on them, and might have 
 washed over and formed extensive plains, in which case this 
 would have been one of the most beautiful regions of this 
 glorious clime — somewhat higher than the rest of it. As it 
 is, however, it is a strong net of mountain ridges, interlacing 
 each other in all directions — one often is puzzled to know- 
 whither the waters 'W'ill find their vent. If the valleys were
 
 flokejS'ce. — PEraroiA. 337 
 
 better filled up, and the bottoms natter and more irrigated, 
 the land might be compared to Bohemia, only that the momi- 
 tains have in every respect a different character. However, 
 it must not for one moment be thought of as a mountainous 
 waste, but as a highly cultivated though hilly district. The 
 chestnut grows very fine here; the wheat excellent, and that 
 of this year's sowing, is akeady of a beautiful green. Along 
 the roads are planted ever-green oaks with their small leaves, 
 but around the churches and chapels the slim cypress. 
 
 Perugia, October, 25, 1786. Evening. 
 
 For two evenings I have not written. The inns on the 
 road were so wretchedly bad that it was quite useless to think 
 of bringing out a sheet of paper. Moreover, 1 begin to be a 
 little puzzled to find anything, for since quitting Venice the 
 travelling bag has got more and more into confusion. 
 
 Early in the morning (at 23 o'clock, or about 10 of our 
 reckoning) we left the region of the Apennines and saw Flo- 
 rence in an extensive valley, which is highly cultivated and 
 sprinkled over with viUas and houses without end. 
 
 I ran rapidly over the city, the cathedral, the baptistery. 
 Here again a perfectly new and unknown world opened upon 
 me, on which, however, I will not further dwell. The gar- 
 dens of the Botoli are most delightfully situated. I hastened 
 out of them as fast as I had entered them. 
 
 In the city we see the proof of the prosperity of the gene- 
 rations who built it ; the conviction is at once forced upon us 
 that they must have enjoyed a long sviccession of wise rulers. 
 But above all one is struck with the beauty and grandeur 
 which distinguish all the public works, and roads, and bridges 
 in Tuscany. Everything here is at once substantial and clean ; 
 use and profit not less than elegance are alike kept in view, 
 everywhere we discern traces of the care which is taken to 
 preserve them. The cities of the Papal States on the contrary 
 only seem to stand, because the earth is unwilling to swaUow 
 them up. 
 
 The sort of countiy that I lately remarked, the region of the 
 Apennines, might have been, is what Tuscany really is. As it 
 lies so much lower the ancient sea was able to do its -duty 
 properly, and has thi'own up here deep beds of excellent marl 
 Vol. II. z
 
 338 LETTEES FEOM ITALY. 
 
 It is a light yellow hue and easily worked. They plough 
 deep, retaining, however, most exactly the ancient man- 
 ner. Their ploughs have no wheels, and the share is not 
 ihoveable. Bowed down beliind his oxen the peasant pushes 
 it down into the earth, and turns up the soil. They 
 plough over a field as many as five times, and use but little 
 dung, which they scatter vnth the hands. After this they 
 sow the com. Then they plough together two of the smaller 
 ridges into one, and so form deep trenches of such a nature 
 that the rain-water easily runs off the lands into them. When 
 the corn is grown up on the ridges, they can also pass along 
 these trenches iu order to weed it. This way of tilling is a 
 very sensible one, wherever there is a fear of over-moisture ; 
 but why it is practised on these rich, open plains I cannot 
 understand. This remark I just made at Arezzo, where a 
 glorious plain expands itself. It is impossible to find cleaner 
 fields anywhere, not even a lump of earth is to be seen ; all is 
 as fine as if it had been sifted. Wheat thrives here most 
 luxuriantly, and the soil seems to possess all the qualities 
 required by its natui'e. Every second year beans are planted 
 for the horses, who in this country get no oats. Lupins are 
 also much cultivated, which at this season are beautifully 
 gi'een, being ripe in March. The flax, too, is up ; it stands 
 the winter, and is rendered more dm-able by fi-ost. 
 
 The olive-trees are strange plants. They look very much 
 like wiUows; like them also they lose the heart of the wood 
 and the bark splits. But still they have a greater appearance 
 of durability ; and one sees from the wood, of which the grain 
 is extremely fine, that it is a slow grower. The foliage, too, 
 resembles that of the wiUow, only the leaves on the branches 
 are thinner. All the hills around Florence are covered with 
 olive-trees and "sines, between which grain is sown, so that 
 every spot of ground may be made profitable. Near Aiezzo 
 and farther on, the fields are left more free. I observed that 
 they take little care to eradicate the ivy which is so injurious 
 to the oHve and the vine, although it woidd be so easy to 
 destroy it. There is not a meadow to be seen. It is said 
 that the Indian corn exhausts the soil; since it has been 
 introduced, agriculture has sufiered in its other crops. I 
 can well believe it with their scanty manirring. 
 
 Yesterday I took leave cf my Captain, with a promise 
 of visiting him at Bologna on my rctm-n. He is a true
 
 A PAPAL SOLDIER S IDEAS OF PROTESTANTS. 339 
 
 representative of the majority of his countrjnncn. Here, 
 however, I would record a peculiarity which personally dis- 
 tinguished him. As I often sat quiet and lost in thought he 
 once exclaimed " Che pensa? non deve mai pensar I'uomo, 
 jocMsctwcfos'wi/'ecc/iJrt;" which being interpreted is asmiich as to 
 say, " What are you thinking about ; a man ought never to 
 think; thinking makes one old." And now for another 
 apophthegm of his; " Kon deve fennarsi I'uomo in una sola 
 cosa, perche allora divien matto ; hisogna aver ynille cose, una 
 confusione nella testa;"' in plain English, "A man ought not 
 to rivet his thoughts exclusively on any one tiling, otherwise 
 he is sure to go mad; he ought to have in his head a 
 thousand things, a regular medley." 
 
 Certainly the good man coidd not know that the very tiling 
 that made me so thoughtfid was my having my head mazed 
 by a regular confusion of things, old and new. The follov.dng 
 anecdote will serve to elucidate still more clearly the mental 
 character of an Italian of this class. Having soon discovered 
 that I was a Protestant, he observed, after some circumlocu- 
 tion, that he hoped I would allow him to ask me a few ques- 
 tions, for he had heard such strange things about us Protest- 
 ants that he wished to know for a certainty what to think of us. 
 " May you," he said, "live with a pretty girl without being mar- 
 ried to her? do your priests allow you to do that? To this I 
 replied, that oui' priests are prudent folk who take no notice 
 of such trifles. No doubt if we Avere to consult them upon 
 such a matter they would not permit it." " Are you not 
 then obliged to ask them ?" He exclaimed ; " Happy fellows ! 
 as they do not confess you, they do not of com-se find it out." 
 Hereupon he gave vent, in many reproaches to his discontent 
 with his own priests, uttering at the same time loud praises of 
 our liberty. " But," he continued, " as regards confession ; how 
 stands it with you ? We are told that all men, even if they are 
 not Christians, must confess ; but that inasmuch as many, from 
 their obdm-acy, are debarred from the right way, they never- 
 theless make confession to an old tree ; which indeed is 
 impious and ridiculous enough, but yet serves to show that, 
 at least, they recognize the necessity of confession." Upon 
 this I explained to him our Lutheran notions of confession, 
 and our practice concerning it. All this appeared to h.im very 
 easy ; for he expressed an opinion that it was almost the same 
 
 z 2
 
 140 LETTERS PEOM ITALY. 
 
 as confessing to a tree. After a brief hesitation, he begged of 
 me very gravely to inform him correctly on another point. 
 He had, forsooth, heard from the mouth of his own confessor, 
 (who, he said, was a truthful man,) that we Protestants are at 
 liberty to marry om- own sisters, Avhich assm-edly is a " chose 
 Tin pen forte." As I denied this fact, and attempted to give 
 him a more favomable opinion of our doctrine, he made no 
 special remark on the latter, which evidently appeared to him 
 a very ordinary and every-day sort of a thing; but turned 
 aside my remarks by a new question. " We have been 
 assured," he observed, "that Frederick the Great, who has 
 -won so many victories, even over the faithful, and filled the 
 world Avith his glory — that he whom every one takes to be a 
 heretic is really a Catholic, and has received a dispensation 
 fi-om the Pope to keep the fact secret. For while, as is well 
 known, he never enters any of yoiu- churches, he diligently 
 tittends the true worship in a subterranean chapel, though with 
 a broken heart, because he dare not openly avow the holy 
 religion, since were he to do so, his Prussians, who are a 
 brutish people and furious heretics, would no doubt murder him 
 on the instant ; — and to risk that would do no good to the cause. 
 On these groimds the Holy Father has given him permission to 
 worship in secret, in return for which he quietly does as much 
 as possible to propagate and to ftivour the true and only saving 
 faith." I allowed all this to pass, merely observing, as it 
 was so great a secret no one coidd be a witness to its truth. 
 The rest of our conversation was nearly of the same cast, so 
 that I coidd not but admire the Avise priests who sought to 
 parry, and to distort whatever was likely to enlighten or vary 
 the dark outline of their traditional dogmas. 
 
 I left Perugia on a glorious morning, and felt the happi- 
 ness of being once more alone. The site of the city is bcau- 
 tifid, and the view of the sea in the highest degree refreshing. 
 These scenes are deeply impressed on my menlorJ^ At first 
 the road went do-miwards, then it entered a cheerful valley, 
 enclosed on both sides by distant hills, till at last Assisi lay 
 before us. 
 
 Here, as I had learned from Palladio and Volckmann, a 
 noble temple of Minerva, built in the time of Augustus, was still 
 standing in perfect repair. At Madonna del Anyclo, therefore, 
 I quitted my vetturino, leaving him to proceed by himself to
 
 ASSISI. lEMPLE OF MINEKVA. 341 
 
 Foligno, and set off in the face of a strong wind for Assisi, for 
 I longed for a foot journey through a country so solitary for mo. 
 I left on my left the vast mass of chm-ches, piled Babel--\^-ise 
 one over another, in one of which rest the remains of the holy S. 
 Francis of Assisi, — with aversion, for I thought to myself, that 
 the people who assembled in them were mostly of the same 
 stamp with my captain and travelling companion. Having 
 asked of a good-looking youth the way to the della Alinerva^ 
 he accompanied me to the top of the towTi, for it lies on the 
 side of a hill. At last we reached what is properly the old 
 town, and behold before my eyes stood the noble edifice, the 
 fii'st complete memorial of antiquity that I had ever seen. A 
 modest temple, as befitting so small a town, and yet so perfect, 
 so well conceived, that anywhere it would be an ornament. 
 Moreover, in these matters, how grand were the ancients ia 
 the choice of theii" sites. The temple stands about half way 
 up the moimtain, where two hills meet on the level place, 
 which is to this day called the Piazza. This itself slightly 
 rises, and is intersected by the meeting of four roads, Mhich 
 make a somewhat dilated S. Andrew's Cross. In all proba- 
 bility the houses which are now opposite the temple, and block 
 up the view from it, did not stand there in ancient times. If 
 they were removed, we should have a south prospect over a 
 rich and fertile country, and at the same time the temple of 
 Minerva would be visible from all sides. The line of the 
 roads is, in all probability, very ancient since they follow 
 the shape and inclination of the hiU, The temple does not 
 stand in the centre of the flat, but its site is so arranged that 
 the traveller catches a fore-shortened view of it soon after 
 leaving Rome. To give an idea of it, it is necessary to draw 
 not only the building itself but also its happily-chosen site. 
 
 Looking at the facjade, I could not sufficiently admire the 
 genius-like identity of design which the architects have here, 
 as elsewhere, maintained. The order is Corinthian, the girth 
 of the columns being somewhat above two modules. The 
 bases of the columns and the plinths seem to rest on pedes- 
 tale, but it is only an appearance. The socle is cut through 
 in five places, and at each of these, five stops ascend between, 
 the columns, and bring you to a level, on which properly 
 the columns rest, and from which also you enter the j:emjjle- 
 Tho bold idea of cutting through the socle was happily
 
 S42 XETTEUS FROM. ITALY. 
 
 hazarded ; for, as the temple is situated on a hill, the flighty 
 of steps must otherwise have been carried up to such a 
 height as would have inconveniently narrowed the area of the 
 temple. As it is, however, it is impossible to determine how 
 many steps there originally were ; for, with the exception of 
 a very few, they are all choked up with dirt or paved over. 
 Most reluctantly did I tear myseK from the sight, and deter- 
 mined to call the attention of architects to tliis noble edifice, 
 in order that an accurate draught of it may be famished. 
 For what a sorry thing tradition is, I here again find occasion 
 to remark. Palladio, whom I trust in every matter, gives 
 indeed a sketch of this temple, but certainly he never can 
 have seen it himself, for he gives it real pedestals above the 
 area, by wliich means the columns appear disproportionately 
 high, and the result is a sort of unsightly Pabnyi-ene mon- 
 strosity, Avhereas, in fact, its look is so fuU of repose and 
 beauty as to satisfy both the eye and the mind. The impression 
 which the sight of this edifice left upon me is not to be expressed, 
 and will bring forth imperishable fruits. It was a beautiful 
 evening, and I now tm-ned to descend the mountain. As I 
 was proceeding along the Roman road, calm and composed, 
 suddenly I heard behind me some rough voices in dispute ; I 
 fancied that it was oidy the Sbirri, whom I had previously 
 noticed in the town. I, therefore, went on without care, but 
 still with my ears listening to what they might be saying 
 behind me. I soon became aware that I was the object of 
 their remarks. Four men of this body (two of whom were 
 armed with gims.) passed me in the rudest way possible, 
 muttering to each other, and turning back, after a few 
 steps, suddenly surrounded me. They demanded my name, 
 and what I was doing there. I said that I was a stranger, 
 and had travelled on foot to Assisi, while my vetturino had 
 gone on to Foligno. It appeared to them very improbable, 
 that any one should pay for a carriage and yet travel by foot. 
 They asked me if I had been visiting the '■ Gran Convento." 
 I answered " no;" but assiured them that I knew the build- 
 ing of old, but being an architect, my chief object this time 
 was simplv to gain a sight of the Maria dcUa J^Iinerva, which 
 they must' be aware was an architectural model. This they 
 could not contradict, but seemed to take it very ill that I had 
 not paid a visit to the Saint, and avowed their suspicion that
 
 ASSIST — AN ADVENTTJBE. 343 
 
 my business in fact was to smuggle contraband goods. I 
 pointed out to them bow ridiculous it was that a man who 
 walked openly through the streets alone, and without packs 
 and with empty pockets, should be taken for a contrabandist. 
 However, upon this I offered to return to the town with 
 them, and to go before the Podesta, and by showing my papers 
 prove to him that I was an honest traveller. Upon this they 
 muttered together for a while, and then expressed their opinion 
 that it was unnecessary, and, as I behaved throughout with 
 coolness and gravity, they at last left me, and tmnied towards 
 the town. I looked after them. As these rude chmis moved 
 on in the foreground, behind them the beautiful temple of 
 Minerva once more caught my eye, to soothe and console me 
 with its sight. I tm-ned then to the left to look at the heavy 
 cathedi-al of S. Francisco, and was about to continue my way, 
 when one of the unarmed Sbirri, separating himself from the 
 rest, came up* to me in a quietand friendly manner. Saluting 
 me, he said, Signior Stranger, you ought at least to give me 
 something to drink yom- health, for I assm^e you, that from the 
 very first I took you to be an honom-able man, and loudly 
 maintained this opinion in opposition to my comrades. They, 
 however, are hot-headed and over-hasty fellows, and have 
 no knowledge of the world. You yourself must have observed, 
 that I was the first to allow the force of, and to assent to, 
 your remarks. I praised him on this score, and urged him to 
 protect all honoui-able strangers, who might henceforward come 
 to Assisi for the sake either of religion or of ait, and especially 
 all architects, who might fs-ish to do honom- to the town, by 
 measming, and sketcloing the temple of Minerva, since a 
 correct di-av»^iiiij or engraving of it had never yet been taken. 
 If he were to accompany them, they would, I assm-ed him, 
 give him substantial proofs of their gratitude, and with these 
 words I poui-ed some sdvci- into his hand, which, as exceed- 
 ing his expectation, delighted him above measure. He beg- 
 ged me to pay a second visit to the tovm, remarking that I 
 ought not on any account to miss the festival of the Saint, 
 on which I might Avith the greatest safety delight and amuse 
 myself. Ir-deed if, being a good-looking fellow, I should wish 
 to be introduced to the fair sex, he assm-ed me that the 
 prettiest and most respectable ladies woidd willingly receive 
 me or any stranger, upon his recommendation. He took his
 
 344 LETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 leave, promising to remember me at vespers before the tomb 
 of the Saint, and to offer up a prayer for my safety throughout 
 my travels. Upon this we parted, and most delighted was I 
 to be again alone with natm-e and myself. The road to FoKgno 
 was one of the most beautiful and agreeable walks that I ever 
 took. For four full hoiu"s I walked along the side of a 
 mountain, having on my left a richly cultivated valley. 
 
 It is but sorry travelling -with a vetturino^ it is always best to 
 follow at one"s ease on foot. In this way had I travelled from 
 Ferrara to this place. As regards the arts and mechanical in- 
 vention, on which however the ease and comforts of life mainly 
 depend, Italy, so highly favoured by nature, is very far 
 behind all other countries. The carriage of the vetturino, 
 which is still called sedia, or seat, certainly took its origin 
 fi'om the ancient litters drawn by mules, in which females 
 and aged persons, or the highest dignitaries, used to be car- 
 ried about. Instead of the hinder mule, on whose yoke the 
 shafts used to rest, two wheels have been placed beneath the 
 carriage, and no further improvement has been thought of. 
 In this way one is still jolted along, just as they were centuries 
 ago ; it is the same with their houses and everything else. 
 
 If one wishes to see realised the poetic idea of men in pri- 
 meval times, spending most of their lives beneath the open 
 heaven, and orJy occasionally, when compelled by necessity, 
 retiring for shelter into the caves, one must ■visit the houses 
 hereabouts, especially those in the rm-al districts, which are 
 quite in the style and fashion of caves. Svich an incredible 
 absence of care do the Italians evince, in order not to grow 
 old by thinking. With imheard of frivolity, they neglect to 
 make any preparation for the long nights of winter, and in 
 consequence, for a considerable portion of the year, suffer 
 like dogs. Here, in Foligno, in the midst of a perfectly 
 Homeric household, the whole family being gathered together 
 in a large hall, round a fire on the hearth, with plenty of run- 
 ning backwards and forwards and of scolding and shouting, 
 while supper is going on at a long table like that in the picture 
 of the Wedding Feast at Caua, I seize an opportunity of -mit- 
 ing this, as one of the family has ordered an iulvstand to be 
 brought me, — a luxury which, judging from other circum- 
 stances, I did not look for. These pages, however, tell too plainly 
 of the cold and of the inconvenience of my Avriting table.
 
 TEKXI. 345 
 
 In fact I am now made only too sensible of the rashness of 
 travelling in this country without a servant, and without pro- 
 viding oneself well with eveiy necessary. What with the 
 ever-changing cmrency, the vettu7-im, the extortion, the 
 wretched inns, one who, like myself, is travelling alone, 
 for the first time in this coimtry, hoping to find iminter- 
 rupted pleasure, will be sm-e to find himself miserably 
 disappointed every day. However, I wished to see the 
 country at any cost, and even if I must be dragged to 
 Rome on Ixion's wheel, I shall not complain. 
 
 Terni, Oct, 27, 1786, 
 Evem7i(/. 
 Again sitting in a " cave," which only a year before suf- 
 fered from an earthquake. The little town lies in the midst 
 of a rich country, (for taking a circuit round the city 
 I explored it with pleasure,) at the beginning of a beautiful 
 plain which lies between two ridges of lime-stone hills. 
 Terni, like Bologna, is situated at the foot of the mountain 
 
 range. 
 
 Almost ever since the papal ofiicer left me I have had a 
 priest for my companion. Tlie latter appears better contented 
 with his profession than the soldier, and is ready to enlighten 
 me, whom he very soon saw to be an heretic, by answering 
 any question I might put to him concerning the ritual and 
 other matters of bis church. By thus mixing continually 
 with new characters I thoroughly obtain my object. It is 
 absolutely necessary to hear the people talking together, if 
 you wovdd form a true and lively image of the whole country. 
 The Italians are in the strangest manner possible rivals and 
 adversaries of each other; everyone is strongly enthusiastic 
 in the praise of his own town and state ; they cannot bear 
 with one another, and even in the same city the different 
 ranks nourish perpetual feuds, and all this with a profoimdly 
 vivacious and most obvious passionatencss, so that while they 
 expose one another's pretensions, they keep up an amusing 
 comedy all day long ; and yet they come to an under- 
 standing again together, and seem quite aware how impos- 
 sible it is for a stranger to enter into their ways and thoughts. 
 
 I ascended to Spoleto and went along the aqueduct, which 
 serves also for a bridge from one mountain to another. The ten
 
 3,46 XETTEES FBOJI ITALY. 
 
 "brick arches whicli span the valley, have quietly stood there 
 thi-ough centiuies, and the water still flows into Sjjoleto, and 
 reaches its remotest quarters. This is the thii-d great work of 
 the ancients that I have seen, and still the same gi-andeur of 
 conception. A second natiu-e made to work for social objects, 
 — such was theu' architecture ; and so arose the amphitheatre, 
 the temple, and the aqueduct. Now at last I can miderstand 
 the justice of my hatred for all arbitrary cajirices, as, for 
 instance, the winter casts on white stone — a nothing about 
 nothing — a monstrous piece of confectionary ornament — and 
 so also vrith a thousand other things. But all that is now 
 dead ; for whatever does not possess a true intrinsic -dtality 
 cannot live long, and can neither be nor ever become great. 
 
 What entertainment and instruction have I not had cause 
 to be thankful for dming these eight last weeks, but in fact 
 it has also cost me some trouble. I kept my eyes continually 
 open, and strove to stamp deep on my mind the images of all 
 I saw; that was all — judge of them I could not, even if it 
 had been in my power. 
 
 San Crocefisso, a singidar chapel on the road side, did not 
 look, to my mind, like the remains of a temple which had 
 once stood on the same site ; it was evident that columns, 
 pillars, and pediments had been found, and incongruously 
 put together, not stupidly bu.t madly. It does not admit of 
 description ; however, there is somewhere or other an en- 
 graving of it. 
 
 And so it may seem strange to some that we should go on 
 troubling om-selves to acquire an idea of antiquity, although 
 we have nothing before us but ruins, out of which we must 
 fii-st painfully reconstruct the very thing we wish to form an 
 idea of. 
 
 With what is called " classical ground''' the case stands 
 rather different. Here, if only we do not go to work fanci- 
 fully, but take the groimd really as it is, then we shall have 
 the decisive arena which moulded more or less the greatest of 
 events. Accordingly I have hitherto actively employed my 
 geological and agriculmral ej-e to the suppressing of fancy 
 and sensibility, in order to gain for myself an imbiassed and 
 distinct notion of the locality. By such means history fixes 
 itself on om- minds with a marvellous vividness, and the effect 
 is utterly inconceivable by another. It is something of this
 
 KOAD-SIBE TANTASIES. 347 
 
 sort that makes me feel so very great a desire to read Tacitus 
 in Rome. 
 
 I must not, however, forget the weather. As I descended 
 the Apennines from Bologna the clouds gi-adually retired 
 towards the north, afterwards they changed theii- course and 
 moved towards Lake Trasimene. Here they continued to 
 hang, though perhaps they may have moved a little farther 
 southward. Instead, therefore, of the great plain of the Po, 
 sending as it does, during the summer, all its clouds to the 
 Tyrolese mountains, it now sends a part of them towards the 
 Apennines, — from thence perhaps comes the rainy season. 
 
 They are now beginning to gather the olives. It is done 
 here with the hand, in other places they are beat down with 
 sticks. If winter comes on before aU are gathered, the rest 
 are allowed to remain on the trees till spring. Yesterday I 
 noticed, in a very strong soil, the largest and oldest trees 
 I have ever yet seen. 
 
 The favour of the Muses, like that of the daemons, is not 
 always shown us in a suitable moment. Yesterday I felt 
 inspired to imdertake a work which at present would be ill- 
 timed. Approaching nearer and nearer to the centre of 
 Romanism, sm-roimded by Roman Catholics, boxed up with a 
 priest in a sedan, and striving anxiously to observe and to 
 study without prejudice true nature and noble art, I have 
 an-ived at a \ivid conviction that all traces of original 
 Christianity are extinct here. Indeed, while I tried to 
 bring it before my mind in its purity, as we see it recorded 
 in the Acts of the Apostles, I could not help shuddering 
 to think of the shapeless, not to say grotesque, mass of 
 Heathenism which heavily ovcrHes its benign beginnings. 
 Accordingly the '"Wandering Jew'' again occun-ed to me 
 as having been a witness of all this wondcrfid develop- 
 ment and envelopment, and as having lived to experience so 
 strange a state of things, that Christ himself, when He shall 
 come a second time to gather in His harvest, will be in 
 danger of being crucified a second time. The Legend, 
 " Venio itenim crucifigi" was to serve me as the material of 
 this catastrojihe. 
 
 Dreams of this land floated before me ; for out of impa- 
 tience to get onwards, I used to sleep in my clothes; and I 
 know of nothing more beautiful than to Avake before dawn.
 
 348 LETTERS FEOil ITALY. 
 
 and between sleeping and waking, to seat oneself in one's 
 car, and travel on to meet the day. 
 
 Citta Castellana, October 28, 1786. 
 
 I will not fail you this last evening. It is not yet eight 
 o'clock, and all are abeady in bed; so I can for a good "last 
 time" think over what is gone by, and revel in the anticipa- 
 tion of what is so shortly to come. This has been through- 
 out a bright and glorious day ; the morning veiy cold, the 
 day clear and warm, the evening somewhat windy, but veiy 
 beautiful. 
 
 It was very late when we set off from Terni, and we 
 reached Narni before day, and so I did not see the bridge. 
 Valleys and lowlands ; — now near, now distant prospects ; — a 
 rich country, but all of limestone, and not a trace of any 
 other formation. 
 
 Otricoli lies on an alliivial gravel-hill, thrown up by one of 
 the ancient inundations ; it is built of lava brought from the 
 other side of the river. 
 
 As soon as one is over the bridge one finds oneself in a 
 volcanic region, either of real lava, or of the native rock, 
 changed by the heat and by fusion. You ascend a moun- 
 tain, which you might set down at once for gray lava. It 
 contains many white crystals of the shape of garnets. The 
 causeway from the heights to the Citta Castellana is likewise 
 composed of this stone, now worn extremely smooth. The 
 city is built on a bed of volcanic tufa, in which I thought I 
 could discover ashes, pumice-stone, and pieces of lava. The 
 \-iew from the castle is extremely beautiful. Soracte stands 
 out and alone in the prospect most pictm-esquely. It is pro- 
 bably a limestone mountain of the same formation as the 
 Apennines. The volcanic region is far lower than the Apen- 
 nines, and it is only the streams teaiing thi-ough it, that have 
 formed out of it hills and rocks, which, ^vith theii' over- 
 hanging ledges, and other marked features of the landscape, 
 fm-nish most glorious objects for the painter. 
 
 To-morrow evening and I shall be in Rome. Even yet I 
 can scarcely believe it possible ; and if this wish is fultilled, 
 what shall I wish for afterwards ? I know not, except it be 
 that I may safely stand in my little pheasant-loaded canoe, 
 and may fiiid all my friends well, ha2)py, and unchanged.
 
 ROME. 
 
 Ro7ne, November 1, 1786. 
 
 At last I can speak out, and greet my friends with, good 
 humour. May they pardon my secrecy, and what has been, 
 as it were, a subten-anean joiu-ney hither. For scarcely to 
 myself did I venture to say whither I was hiu-rying — even on 
 the road I often had my fears, and it was only as I passed 
 under the Porta del Popolo that I felt certain of reaching 
 Home. 
 
 And now let me also say that a thousand times — aye, at 
 all times, do I thiiilc of you, in the neighbourhood of these 
 objects which I never believed I should visit alone. It was only 
 when I saw every one bound body and soul to the north, 
 and aU longing for those countries utterly extinct among 
 them ; that I resolved to imdertake the long solitary 
 journey, and to seek that centre towards which I was 
 attracted by an ii'resistible impulse. Indeed for the few last 
 years it had become with me a kind of disease, which could 
 only be cured by the sight and jjresencc of the absent object. 
 Now, at length I may venture to confess the truth : it reached 
 at last such a height, that I durst not look at a Latin book, or 
 even an engraving of Italian scenery. The craving to see this 
 country was over ripe. Now, it is satisfied; friends and 
 country have once more become right dear to me, and the 
 return to them is a wished for object — nay, the more 
 ardently desired, the more firmly I feel convinced that I 
 bring with me too many treasiu-es for personal enjoyment 
 or private use, but such as thi-ough life may serve others, 
 as well as myself, for edification and guidance. 
 
 Rome, November 1, 1786. 
 Well, at last I am arrived in this great capital of the 
 world. If fifteen years ago I could have seen it' in good
 
 350 liETTEHS FKOir ITALY. 
 
 company, with a well informed guide, I should have thought 
 myself very fortunate. But as it was to be that I should thus 
 see it alone, and -n-ith my own eyes, it is well that this joy 
 has fallen to my lot so late in Hfe. 
 
 Over the moimtains of the Tyrol I have as good as flown. 
 Verona, Yicenza, Padua, and Venice I have carefully 
 looked at; hastily glanced at Ferrara, Cento, Bologna, 
 and scarcely seen Florence at all. My anxiety to reach 
 Rome was so great, and it so grew with me every moment, 
 that to think of stopping an}-where was quite out of the 
 question; even in Florence, I only stayed three hours. 
 iSTow 1 am here at my ease, and as it would seem, shall 
 be tranquillized for my whole life ; for we may almost say 
 that a new Hfe begins when a man once sees with his own 
 eyes all that before he has but partially heard or read of. 
 AU the dreams of my youth I now behold realized before 
 me ; the subjects of the first engravings I ever remember 
 seeing (several views of Rome were hung up in an ante- 
 room of my fathers house) stand bodily TDefore my sight, 
 and aU that I had long been acquainted Avith thi'ough paint- 
 ings or drawings, engravings, or wood-cuts, plaister-casts, 
 and cork models are here collectively presented to my 
 eye. Wherever I go I find some old acquaintance in this new 
 world ; it is all just as I had thoiight it, and yet all is new ; 
 and just the same might I remark of my own observations 
 and my own ideas. I have not gained any new thoughts, 
 but the older ones have become so defined, so vivid, and so 
 coherent, that they may almost pass for new ones. 
 
 ^Vhen PygmaUon"s Elisa, which he had shaped entirely in 
 accordance ■with his wishes, and had given to it as much of 
 truth and nature as an artist can, moved at last towards him, 
 and said, " I am!" — how different was the living form from 
 the chiselled stone. 
 
 In a moral sense, too, how salutarj' is it for me to livo 
 awhile among a wholly sensual people, of whom so much has 
 been said and wiitten, and of whom every sta-anger judges 
 accordinq; to the standard he brinsrs with him. I can excuse 
 every one who blames and reproaches them ; they stand too 
 far apart from us, and for a stranger to associate vdih them is 
 difficult and expensive.
 
 BOilE — FESTIVAL OF ALL SOUI;S. 351 
 
 Rome, Noiieinber 3, 1 786. 
 
 One of the chief motives which I had for huiTying to Rome 
 was the Festival of All Saints ; for I thought -s^ithin myself, 
 if Rome pays so miich honour to a single saint, what will she 
 not show to them aU? But I was under a mistake. The 
 Roman Church has never been very fond of celebrating with 
 remarkable pomp any common festival ; and so she leaves 
 every order to celebrate in silence the especial memory of its 
 own patron, — for the name Festival, and the day esjiecially set 
 apart to each saint is properly the occasion when each receives 
 his highest commemoration. 
 
 Yesterday, however, which was the Festival of All Souls, 
 things went better with me. This commemoration is kept 
 by the Pope in his private chapel on the Quirinal. I has- 
 tened with Tischbcin to the Monte Cavallo. The piazza 
 before the palace has something altogether singular — so irre- 
 gular is it, and yet so grand and so beautiful ! I now cast 
 eyes upon the Colossuses ! neither eye nor mind was large 
 enough to take them in. Ascending a broad flight of steps, 
 we followed the crowd through a splendid and spacious hall. 
 In this ante-chamber, directly opposite to the chapel, and in 
 sight of the numerous apartments, one feels somewhat 
 strange to find oneself beneath the same roof with the Vicar 
 of Christ. 
 
 The office had begun ; Pope and Cardinals were abeady in 
 the church. The holy fether, of a highly handsome and 
 dignified form, the cardinals of different ages and figures ; 
 I was seized with a strange longing desire that the head of 
 the Chiu-ch might open his golden moiith, and speaking with 
 rapture of the ineffable bliss of the happy soul, set us all too in 
 a rapture. But as I only saw him moving backwards and for- 
 wards before the altar, and tm-ning himself now to this side 
 and now to that, and only muttering to himself, and con- 
 ducting himself just like a common parish priest, then the 
 original sin of Protestantism re^'ived within me, and the well- 
 known and ordinary mass for the dead had no charms for me. 
 For most assuredly Christ Himself — He who in his youthful 
 days, and even as a child excited men's wonder by His oral 
 exposition of Scriptm-e, did never thus teach and work in 
 silence ; but as we learn from the Gospels, He w^as ever 
 ready to utter His wise and spuitual words. What^ I asked
 
 552 XETTliRS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 myself, would He say, where He to come in among us, and 
 see His image on earth thus mumbling, and saiUng backwards 
 and forwards? The " Venio iterum crucifigi" again crossed : 
 my mind, and I nudged my companion to come out into the ! 
 freer air of the vaulted and painted hall. 
 
 Here we found a crowd of persons attentively observing 
 the rich paintings ; for the Festival of All Souls is also the 
 holyday of aU the artists in Rome. Not only the chapel, but 
 the whole palace also, with all its rooms, is for many hours 
 on this day open and free to every one, no fees being requii-ed, 
 and the visitors not being liable to be huiTied on by the 
 chamberlain. 
 
 The paintings on the walls engaged my attention, and I 
 now formed a new acquaintance with some excellent artists, 
 whose very names had hitherto been almost imknown to me, 
 — for instance, I now for the first time learned to appreciate 
 and to love the cheerful Carlo Maratti. 
 
 But chiefly welcome to me were the masterpieces of the 
 artists, of whose stv'le and manner I afready had some 
 impression. I saw' with amazement the wonderful Petronilla 
 of Guercino, which was formerly in St. Peter's, where a mosaic 
 copy now stands in the place of the original. The body of 
 the Saint is lifted out of the grave, and the same person, just 
 reanimated, is being received into the heights of heaven by a 
 celestial youth. Whatever may be alleged against this double 
 action, the picture is invaluable. 
 
 Still more struck was I with a picture of Titian's : it 
 throws into the shade all I have hitherto seen. Whether 
 my eye is more practised, or whether it is really the most 
 excellent, I cannot determine. An immense mass-robe, stift 
 with embroidery and gold-embossed figures, envelops the 
 dignified frame of a bishop. With a massive pastoral stan 
 in his left hand, he is gazing with a look of rapture towards 
 heaven, while he holds in his right a book out of which he 
 seems to have imbibed the divine enthusiasm with which 
 he is inspired. Behind him a beautiful maiden, holding a 
 palm branch in her hand, and, full of affectionate sj-mpathy, 
 is looking over his shoulder into the open book. A grave old 
 man on the right stands quite close to the book, but appears 
 to pay no attention to it; the key in his hand, suggests the 
 possibility of his familiar acquaintance \fi\h. its contents.
 
 ROME TITIAN — GUIDO. oo3 
 
 Over against this group a naked, well-made youth, wounded 
 with an arrow, and in chains, is looking straight before hiiu 
 with a slight expression of resignation in his countenance, in 
 the intermediate space stand two monks, bearing a cross and 
 lilies, and devoutly looking up to heaven. Then in the 
 -clear upper space is a semi-circular wall, which encloses them 
 aU ; above moves a Madonna in highest glory, sjonpathising 
 with all that passes below. The young sprightly child on her 
 bosom, with a radiant coimtenance, is holding out a crown, 
 and seems indeed on the point of casting it down. On 
 both sides angels are floating by, who hold in their hands 
 frowns in abundance. High above all the figures, and even 
 the triple-rayed aureola, soars the celestial dove, as at once 
 the centre and finish of the whole gi-oup. 
 
 We said to ourselves, " Some ancient holy legend must have 
 furnished the subject of this picture, in order that these various 
 and ill-assorted personages should have been brought toge- 
 ther so artistically and so significantly. We ask not, how- 
 over, why and wherefore, — we take it all for granted, and 
 only wonder at the inestimable piece of art. Less unin- 
 telligible, but still mysterious, is a fresco of Guido's in this 
 chajiel. A virgin, in childish beauty, loveliness, and inno- 
 cence, is seated, and quietly sewing : two angels stand by her 
 side,' waiting to do her service at the slightest bidding. 
 Youthful innocence and industry. — the beautiful picture 
 seems to tell us, — are guarded and honoured by the heavenlv 
 beings. No legend is wanting here ; no story needed to fur- 
 nish an explanation. 
 
 Now, however, to cool a little my artistic enthusiam, a 
 merry incident occm-red. I observed that several of the 
 German artists, who came up to Tischbein as an old acquaint- 
 ance, after staring at me, went their ways again. At last 
 one, who had most recently been observing my person, came 
 up to me again, and said, "We have had a good joke ; the 
 report that you were in Kome had spread among us, and the 
 attention of us artists was called to the one unknown 
 stranger. Now, there was one of our body who used for a 
 long time to assert that he had met you — nay, he asseverated 
 he had lived on very friendly terms with you, — a fact which 
 "we were not so ready to believe. However, we have just 
 called upon him to look at you, and solve our doubts. Ho 
 
 Vol. II. 2 a
 
 354 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 at once stoutly denied that it was you, and said that in the 
 stranger there was not a trace of yom- person or mien." So, 
 then, at least our incognito is for the moment secm-e, and 
 "will afford us sometliing hereafter to laugh at. 
 
 I now mixed at my ease with the troop of artists, and 
 asked them who were the painters of several pictures whose 
 style of art was unkno^^-n to me. At last I was particularly 
 struck by a picture representing St. George killing the 
 dragon, and setting free the virgin; no one could tell me 
 whose it was. Upon tliis a little modest man, who uj) to 
 this time had not opened his mouth, came forward and told 
 me it was Pordenone's, the Venetian painter ; and that it 
 was one of the best of his paintings, and displayed all his 
 merits. I was now well able to account for my liking for it : 
 the pictiu-e pleased me, because I possessed some knowledge 
 of the Venetian school, and was better able to appreciate the 
 excellencies of its best masters. 
 
 The artist, my informant, was Heinrich Meyer, a Swiss, 
 who for some years had been studying at Rome with a 
 friend of the name of Rolla, and who had taken excellent 
 drawings in Spain of antique busts, and vras well read in the 
 history of art. 
 
 Rome, Novcmhcr 7, 1786. 
 
 I have now been here seven days, and by degrees have 
 formed in my mind a general idea of the city. We go dili- 
 gently backwards and forwards. \\Tiile I am thus making my- 
 self acquainted with the plan of old and new Rome, ^•iewing 
 the ruins and the buildings, visiting this and that villa, the 
 gi-andest and most remarkable objects are slowly and lei- 
 surely contemplated. I do but keep my eyes open and see, 
 and then go and come again, for it is only in Rome one can 
 duly prepare oneself for Rome. 
 
 It must, in truth, be confessed, that it is a sad and melan- 
 choly business to prick and track out ancient Rome in new 
 Rome ; however, it must be done, and we may hope at 
 least for an incalculable gratification. We meet with traces 
 both of majesty and of ruin, which alike surpass all concep- 
 tion ; what the barbarians spared, the builders of new Rome 
 made havoc of.
 
 HOME — ITS PEESEKT ASPECT. 355 
 
 When one thus beholds an object two thousand years old and 
 more, but so manifoldly and thoroughly altered by the changes 
 of time, but, sees nevertheless, the same soil, the same moim- 
 tains, and often indeed the same walls and columns, one be- 
 comes, as it were, a contemporary of the great counsels of 
 Fortune, and thus it becomes difficult for the observer to 
 trace from the beginning Home following Rome, and not 
 only new Rome succeeding to the old, but also the several 
 epochs of both old and new in succession. I endeavour, first 
 of aU, to grope my way alone thi'ough the obscurer parts, for 
 this is the only plan by which one can hope fidly and com- 
 pletely to perfect by the excellent introductory works which 
 have been written from the fifteenth century to the present 
 day. The first artists and scholars have occupied their whole 
 lives with thesq objects. 
 
 And this vastness has a strangely tranquillizing efiectupon 
 you in Rome, while you pass from place to place, in order to 
 \-isit the most remarkable objects. In other places one has to 
 search for what is important ; here one is oppressed, and 
 borne down with numberless phenomena. Wherever one 
 goes and casts a look around, the eye is at once stinick with 
 some landscape, — forms of every kind and style ; palaces and 
 ruins, gardens and statuary, distant views of -villas, cottages 
 and stables, triumphal arches and columns, often crowd- 
 ing so close together, tliat they might all be sketched on a 
 single sheet of paper. He ought to have a hundred hands to 
 write, for what can a single pen do here ; and, besides, by 
 the evening one is quite weary and exhausted with the day's 
 seein"- and admiriu";. 
 
 Rome, Novembei- 7, 1786. 
 Pardon me, ray friends, if for the future you find me rather 
 chary of my words. On one"s travels one usually rakes 
 together all that we meet on one's way ; every day brings 
 something new, and one then hastens to think upon and to 
 judge of it. Here, however, we come into a very great school 
 indeed, where every daV saj's so much, that we camiot ven- 
 ture to say anything of the day itself. Indeed, people would 
 do well if, tarrying here for years together, they observed 
 awhile a Pythagorean silence. 
 
 2 a 2
 
 356 LETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 N'ov. 1786. 
 I am quite well. 'ITid weather, as the Romans say, is 
 hrutto. The south wind, the scirocco, is blowing, and brings 
 with it every day more or less of rain : for my part, I do not 
 find the weather disagreeable ; such as it is, it is warmer than 
 the rainy days of summer are with us. 
 
 Rome, November 7, 1786. 
 
 The more I become acquainted with Tischbcin's talents, as 
 well as his principles and views of art, the higher I appre- 
 ciate and value them. He has laid before me his di-awings 
 and sketches ; they have great merit, and are full of high 
 promise. His \'isit to Bodmer led him to fix his thoughts 
 on the infancy of the human race, when man fomid him- 
 self standing on the earth, and had to solve the pro- 
 blem, how he must best fulfil his destiny as the Lord of 
 Creation. 
 
 As a suggestive introduction to a series of illustrations of 
 this subject, he has attempted symbolically to vindicate the 
 high antiquity of the world. Mountains overgrown with 
 noble forests, — ^ravines worn out by watercom-ses, — burnt out 
 volcanoes still faintly smoking. In the foreground the 
 mighty stock of a patriarchal oak still remains in the ground, 
 on whose half-bared roots a deer is trying the strength of his 
 liorns, — a conception as fine as it is beautifully executed. 
 
 In another most remarkable piece he has painted man 
 yoking the horse, and by his superior skill, if not strength, 
 bringing all the other creatures of the earth, the air, and the 
 water under his dominion. The composition is of an extra- 
 ordinary beauty ; when finished in oils it cannot fail of pro- 
 ducing a great effect. A drawing of it must, at any cost, be 
 secured for Weimar. When this is finished, he purposes to 
 ])aint an assembly of old men, aged and experienced in coun- 
 (.'il, — in which he intends to introduce the portraits of living 
 personages. At present, however, he is sketching away with 
 the greatest enthusiasm on a battle-piece. Two bodies of 
 cavalry are fighting with equal courage and resolution ; be- 
 tween them yawns an awful chasm, which but few horses 
 would attempt to clear. Tlie arts of defensive warfare are 
 ■useless here. A wild resolve, a bold attack, a successful leap, or
 
 ROAIi: KAFFAEIE. 357 
 
 else to be liurled in the abyss below I This picture will afford 
 him an opportunity to display, in a very striking manner, 
 the knowledge wluch he possesses of horses, and of their 
 make and movements. 
 
 Now it is Tischbein's wish to have these sketches, and a 
 series of others to follow, or to be intercalated between 
 them, connected together by a poem, which may serve to 
 explain the drawings, ;;nd, by giving them a definite context, 
 may lend to them both a body and a charm. 
 
 The idea is beautiful, only the artist and the poet must be 
 many years together, in order to carry out and to execute 
 such a work. 
 
 Rome, November 7, 1736. 
 The " Loggie'"' of Raffaele, and the great pictm-es of the 
 " School of Athens,"' &c., I have now seen for the first and 
 only time ; so that for me to judge of them at present is like 
 a man having to make out and to judge of Ilomer from some 
 half-obliterated and much-injured manuscript. The gratifica- 
 tion of the first impression is incomplete ; it is only when they 
 have been carefully studied and examined, one by one, that 
 the enjoyment becomes perfect. The best preserved are the 
 paintings on the ceilings of the Logyie. They are as fresh as 
 if painted yesterday The subjects are symbolical. Very few, 
 however, ai-e by Ilaffaele's own hand, but they are excellently 
 executed, after his designs and under his eye. 
 
 Rome, Novemher 7, 1786. 
 Manj^ a time, in years past, did I entertain the strange 
 whim, as ardently to Avish that I might one day be taken to 
 Italy by some well-educated man, — by some P'nglishman, 
 well learned in art and in history ; and now it has all been 
 brought about much better than I could have anticipated. 
 Tischbein has long lived here ; he is a sincere friend to me, 
 and during his stay here always cherished the wish of being 
 able one day to show Rome to me. Our intimacy is old by 
 letter though new by presence. "N\1iere could I meet with a 
 worthier guide ? Ajid if my time is limited, I will at least 
 learn and enjoy as much as possib e ; and yet, notwitlistanding, 
 I clearly foresee, that when I leave Rome I shall wish 'that I 
 was coming to it.
 
 358 XETTEKS FSOM ITALY. 
 
 Rome, Novemher 8, 1786. 
 My strange, and perhaps whimsical, incognito proves useful 
 to me in many ways that I never should have thought of. 
 As every one thinks himself in duty bound to ignore who I 
 am, and consequently never ventures to speak to me of my- 
 self and my works, they have no alternative left them but 
 to speak of themselves, or of the matters in which they are 
 most interested, and in this way I become circumstantially 
 informed of the occupations of each, and of evei-ything 
 remarkable that is either taken in hand or produced. Hofrath 
 Seiffenstein good-naturedly humom-s this whim of mine ; as, 
 however, for special reasons, he could not bear the name 
 Avhich I had assumed, he immediately made a Baron of me, 
 and I am now called the " Baron g eg en Rondanini iiber^' (the 
 Baron who lives opposite to the Palace Rondanini). This 
 designation is sufficiently precise, especially as the ItaUans 
 are accustomed to speak of people either by their Christian 
 names, or else by some nickname. Enough ; I have gained 
 my object ; and I escape the di-eadful annoyance of having 
 to give to everybody an account of myself and my works. 
 
 Rome, November 9, 1786. 
 I frequently stand still a moment to sm-vey, as it were, the 
 heights I have akeady won. With much delight I look back 
 to Venice, that grand creation that sprang out of the bosom 
 of the sea, like Minerva out of the head of Jupiter. In 
 Rome, the Rotimda, both by its exterior and interior, has 
 moved me to offer a willing homage to its magnificence. In 
 S. Peter's I learned to understand how art, no less than 
 nature, annihilates the artificial measm-es and dimensions of 
 man. And in the same way the Apollo Behidere also has 
 again draA\"n me out of reality. For as even the most correct 
 engravings furnish no adequate idea of these buildings, so the 
 case is the same with respect to the marble original of this 
 statue, as compared with the plaister models of it, which, 
 however, I formerly used to look upon as beautinil. 
 
 Rome, Nove^nher 10, 1786. 
 Here I am now living with a calmness and tranquillity to 
 which I have for a long while been a stranger. My practice
 
 HOME — THE GROTTO OF EGEKIA, SiC. 359 
 
 to see and take all things as they ai-e. my fidelity in letting 
 the eye be my light, my perfect renunciation of aU preten- 
 sion, have again come to my aid, and make me calmly, but 
 most intensely, happy. Every day has its fresh remarkable ob- 
 
 iect, every day its new grand unequalled paintings, and a 
 
 whole which a man may long think of, and dream of, but 
 which with all his power of imagination he can never reach. 
 
 Yesterday I was at the Pyramid of Cestius, and in the 
 evening on the Palatine, on the top of which are the ruins of 
 the palace of the Csesars, which stand there like walls of 
 rock. Of all this, however, no idea can be conveyed! In 
 truth, there is nothing little here; although, indeed, occa- 
 sionally something to fijnd fault with, — something more or less 
 absm-d in taste, and yet even tliis partakes of the universal 
 grandeur of all around. 
 
 When, however, I rettrrn to myself, as every one so 
 readily does on all occasions, I discover within a feeling 
 which does not infinitely delight me — one, indeed, which I 
 may even express. Whoever here looks around with ear- 
 nestness, and has eyes to see, must become in a measm-e 
 solid — he cannot but apprehend an idea of solidity with a 
 vividness which is nowhere else possible. 
 
 The mind becomes, as it were, primed with capacity, with 
 an earnestness without severity, and with a definiteness of 
 character with joy. With me, at least, it seems as if I had 
 never before so rightly estimated the things of the world as I 
 do here ; I rejoice when I think of the blessed effects of all 
 this on the whole of my futiu-e being. And let me jumble 
 together the things as I may, order wiU somehow come into 
 them. I am not here to enjoy myself after my own fashion, 
 but to busy myself with the great objects ai'ound, to learn, 
 and to improve myself, ere I am forty years old. 
 
 Rome, Nov. 11, 1786. 
 
 Yesterday I visited the nymph Egeria, and then the Hippo- 
 drome of Caracalla, the ruined tombs along the Via Appia, 
 and the tomb of Metella, which is the first to give one a true 
 idea of what solid masomy really is. These men worked for 
 eternity — all causes of decay were calculated, except the 
 rage of the spoiler, which nothing can resist. Right heartily
 
 360 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 did I wish j^ou had been there. The remains of the principal: 
 aqueduct are highly venerable. How beautiful and grand 
 a design, to supply a Avhole people with water by so vast 
 a structure! In the evening we came upon the Coliseum, 
 ■when it was ah-eady twilight. When one looks at it, all else 
 seems little; the edifice is so vast, that one cannot hold the 
 image of it in one's soul — in memory wc think it smaller, 
 and then return to it again to find it everj- time greater 
 than before. 
 
 Frascati, Nov. 15. 
 
 The company are all in bed, and I am writing with Indian 
 ink Avhich they use for drawing. We have had two beautiful 
 days without ruin, wann and genial simshine, so that summer 
 is scarcely missed. The country around is very pleasant ; the 
 village lies on the side of a hill, or rather of a mountain, and 
 at every step the draughtsman comes upon the most glorious 
 objects. The prospect is imbounded — Rome lies before you, 
 and beyond it, on the right, is the sea, the mountains of 
 Tivoli, and so on. In this delightful region country houses 
 are built expressly for pleasure, and as the ancient Romans 
 had here their villas, so for centm-ies past their rich and 
 haughty successors have planted coimtry residences on all the 
 loveliest spots. For two days we have been w andering about 
 here, and almost every step has brought us upon something 
 new and attractive. 
 
 And yet it is hard to say whether the evenings have not 
 passed still more agreeably than the days. As soon as our 
 stately hostess has placed on the round table the bronzed lamp 
 with its three wicks, and wished us feUcissimo notte, we all 
 form a circle round it, and the views are produced which have 
 been drawn and sketched during the da)- ; their merits arc 
 discussed, opinions are taken whether the objects might or 
 not have been taken more lavourably, whether their true char- 
 acters have been caught, and whether all requisitions of a like 
 general nature, which maj" justly be looked for in a first 
 sketch, have been fulfilled. 
 
 Hofrath Reifienstein, by his judgment and authority, con- 
 trives to give order to, and to conduct these sittings. But 
 the merit of this delightful arrangement is due to Philipp
 
 HOME FAKXilSE GALJDEKV, &C. 3GI 
 
 Hackert, who has a most exeollcnt taste both in drawing; and 
 finishing views from natnre. Artists and dilettanti, men 
 and w^omen, old and young — ^he woidd let no one rest, but 
 stimulated ever}' one to make the attempt at any rate according 
 to their gifts and powers, and led the way with his own good 
 example. The little society thus collected, and held together, 
 Hofrath Reiffenstein has, after the dc2)arture of his friend, 
 faithfully kept up, and we all feel a laudable desire to 
 awake in every one an active partici])ation. The peculiar 
 turn and character of each member of the society is thus 
 shown in a most agreeable way. For instance, Tischbein, as 
 au historical painter, looks upon scenery with very different 
 eyes from the landscape painter ; he sees significant groups, 
 and other graceful speaking objects, where another can see 
 nothing, and so he happily contrives to catch up many a 
 naive-trait of humanity, — it may be in children, peasants, 
 mendicants, or other such beings of natiire, or even in animals, 
 which with a few characteristic touches, he skilfully manages 
 to pourtray, and thereby contributes much new and agreeable 
 matter for our discussions. 
 
 When conversation is exhausted, at Haekei-t's suggestion, 
 perhaps, some one reads aloud Sulzer"s Theory ; for although 
 from a high point of view it is impossible to rest contented 
 with this work, nevertheless, as some one observed, it is so far 
 satisfactory as it is calculated to exercise a favourable in- 
 fluence on minds less higldy cultivated. 
 
 Home. Nor. 17, 1786. 
 
 Wo are back again ! During the night we have had au 
 awful torrent of rain, with tlumdcr and lightning ; it is still 
 raining, but withal ^■cry warm. 
 
 As regards myself, however, it is only Avith few words that 
 I can indicate the happiness of this day. I have seen the 
 frescoes oi Domenirhhw in Andn a delhi J 'alio, and also the 
 Farnese Gallery of Caraccio"s. Ton much, forsooth, for 
 months — what, then, for a single day I 
 
 Rome, A'ov. 18, 178G. 
 It is again beautiful weather, a bright genial warm day. 
 1 saw in the Farnesine palace tlie stori' of Psyche, coloured
 
 362 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 copies of whicli have so long adorned my room, and then at 
 S. Peter's, in Montorio, the Transfigm-ation by RafFaelle — 
 all well kno%vn paintings — like friends which one has made 
 in the distance by means of letters, and which for the fii-st 
 time one sees face to face. To live with them, however, is 
 something quite diflferent ; every true relation and false 
 relation becomes immediately evident. 
 
 Moreover, in every spot and corner glorious things are to 
 be met with, of which less has been said, and which have not 
 been scattered over the world by engravings and copies. Of 
 these I shall bring away with me many a drawing from the 
 hands of young but excellent artists. 
 
 Rome, Nov. 18, 1786. 
 
 The fact that I long maintained a correspondence with 
 Tischbern, and was consequently on the best terms possible 
 with him, and that even when I had no hope of ever visiting 
 Italy, I had communicated to him my wishes, has made om* 
 meeting most profitable and delightful ; he has been always 
 thinking of me, even providing for my wants. With the 
 varieties of stone, of which ail the great edifices, whether old 
 or new are built, he has made himself perfectly acquainted ; 
 he has thoroughly studied them, and his studies have been 
 greatly helped by his artistic eye, and the artist's pleasiu'e in 
 sensible things. Just before my arrival here he sent off to 
 Weimar a collection of specimens which he had selected for 
 me, which will give me a friendly welcome on my retm-n. 
 
 An ecclesiastic who is now residing in France, and had 
 it in contemplation to write a work on the ancient mar- 
 bles, received through the influence of the Propaganda some 
 large pieces of marble from the Island of Pares. When 
 they arrived here they w^ere cut up for specimens, and twelve 
 different pieces, fi-om the finest to the coarsest grain, were 
 reserved for me. Some were of the greatest purity, while 
 others are more or less mingled with mica, the former being 
 used for statuaiy, the latter for architectui-e. How much 
 an accurate knowledge of the material employed in the arts 
 must contribute to a right estimate of them, must be obvious 
 to every one. 
 
 There are opportunities enough here for my collecting
 
 KOKf;. 363 
 
 many more specimens. In ovu* way to the ruins of Nero's 
 palace, we passed tiu'ough some artichoke grounds newly- 
 turned up, and we could not resist the temptation to cram, 
 our pockets full of the granite, porphyry, and marble slabs 
 which lie here by thousands, and serve as imfailing \vitncsses 
 to the ancient splendovu- of the walls which were once 
 covered with them. 
 
 Rome, Nov. 18, 1786. 
 
 I must now speak of a wonderful problematical picture, 
 which even in the midst of the many gems here, still makes a 
 good show of its own. 
 
 For many years there had been residing here a Frenchman 
 well known as an admirer of the arts, and a collector ; he 
 had got hold of an antique di-awing in chalk, no one knows 
 how or whence. He had it retouched by Mengs, and kept it 
 in his collection as a work of very gi^eat value. Winckelmann 
 somewhere speaks of it with enthusiasm. The Frenchman died, 
 and left the picture to his hostess as an antique. Mengs, too, 
 died, and declared on his death-bed that it was not an antique, 
 but had been painted by himself. And now the whole world 
 is divided in opinion, some maintaining that Mengs had 
 one day, in joke, dashed it off with much facility ; others 
 asserting that Mengs could never do anything like it — 
 indeed, that it is ahnost too beautilul for Raffaelle. I saw it 
 yesterday, and must confess that I do not know anything 
 more beautiful than the figiu-e of Ganymede, especially the 
 head and shoulders ; the rest has been much renovated. 
 However, the painting is in ill repute, and no one will relieve 
 the poor landlady of her treasure. 
 
 Rome, Nov. 20, 1786. 
 As experience fully teaches xis that there is a general 
 pleasure in haiing poems, whatever may be their subject, 
 illustrated with drawings and engravings — nay, that the 
 painter himself usually selects a passage of some poet or 
 other for the subject of his most elaborate paintings, Tisch- 
 bein's idea is deserving of approbation, that poets and
 
 364 LETTEllS I'UOM ITALY. 
 
 painters slioiikl work together from the very fost, iu order to 
 secure a perfect rinity. The difficulty would assuredly be i 
 greatly lessened, if it were applied to little pieces, such as I 
 that the whole design would easily admit of being taken in at 
 once by the mind, and worked out consistently with the 
 oiiginal plan. 
 
 Tischbcin has suggested for such common labours some 
 very delightful idyllic thoughts, and it is really singular, 
 that those which he wishes to sec worked out in this wav 
 are really such as neither i)octry nor painting, alone, could 
 ever adequately describe. During our walks together he 
 has talked with me about them, in the hopes of gaining 
 me over to his views, and getting me to enter upon the 
 plan. The frontispiece for such a joint Avork is already 
 designed ; and did I not fear to enter upon any new tasks n't 
 present, I might perhaps be tempted. 
 
 Home, Kov. 22, 1786. 
 T7ie Feast of St. Cecilia. 
 The moruiug of this happy day I must endeavour to per- 
 petuate by a few lines, and at least by description to impart 
 to others what I have myself enjoyed. The weather has been 
 beautiful and calm, quite a bright sky, and a warm siui. Ac- 
 companied by Tischbcin, I set oif for the Piazza of St. Peter's, 
 where we went about first of all from one part to another : 
 when it became too hot for that, walked up and down in the 
 shade of the great obelisk, wliich is full wide enough for two 
 abreast, and eating grapes which we pm-chased iu the neigh- 
 bourhood. Then we entered the Sistine Chapel, which wt; 
 found bright and chccrfid, and with a good light for the pic- 
 tm'es. "The Last Judgment" divided our admiration witli 
 the paintings on the roof by Michael .\.ngelo. I could only 
 see and wonder. The mental confidence and boldness of the 
 master, and his grandeur of conception, are beyond all ex- 
 pression. After we had looked tit all of them over and over 
 again, we left this sacred building, and went to St. Peters, 
 which received from the bright heavens the loveliest light 
 possible, and every part of it A\as clearly lit up. As men 
 willing to be pleased, we were delighted with its vastness 
 and suleudour, and did not allow an over nice or hyporcritical
 
 Rour. — ST. Peter's. 365 
 
 laste to mar our jileasure. We suppressed every harsher 
 judgment: we enjoyed the enjoyable. 
 
 Lastly we ascended the roof of the church, where one finds 
 in little the plan of a well-built city. Houses and magazines, 
 springs (in appearance at least), churches, and a great 
 temple all in the air, and beautiful walks between. We 
 mounted the dome, and saw glistening before us the regions 
 of the Apeimines, Soracte, and towards Tivoli the volcanic 
 hills. Frascati, Castelgandolfo, and the plains, and beyond 
 nil the sea. Close at our feet lay the whole city of Rome iu 
 its length and breadth, with its mountain palaces, domes, Sec. 
 Not a breath of air was moving, and in the upper dome it 
 was (as they say) like being in a hot-house. When we had 
 looked enough at tliese things, we Avent down, and they 
 opened for us the doors in the cornices of the dome, the 
 tympanum, and the nave. There is a passage all round, and 
 from above you can take a view of the Avhole church, and of 
 its several parts. As we stood on the cornices of the tympa- 
 num, we saw beneath us the pope passing to his mid-day 
 devotions. Nothing, therefore, was wanting to make our 
 view of St. Peters perfect. We at last descended to the 
 :u'ca, and took in a neighbom-iug hotel a cheerful but frugal 
 meal, and then set off for St. Clecilia's. 
 
 It would take many words to describe the decorations of 
 tliis church, which was crammed full of people ; not a stone 
 of the edifice was to be seen. The pillars were covered 
 with red velvet wound round with gold lace ; the capitals 
 were overlaid with embroidered velvet, so as to retain some- 
 what of the appearance of capitals, and all the cornices and 
 pillars were in like manner covered with hangings. All the 
 entablatures of the walls were also covered with life-like 
 paintings, so that the whole church seemed to be laid out in 
 anosaic. Around the church, and on the high altar more 
 than two hundi'cd wax tapers were burning. It looked like 
 a wall of lights, and the whole nave was perfectly lit up. 
 The aisles and side altars Avere equally adorned and illumi- 
 nated. Right opposite the high altar, and under the organ, 
 two scaffolds were erected, Avhich also Avere covered Avith 
 velvet, on one of Avhich Avere placed the singers, and on the 
 other the instruments, Avhich kej)t up one unbroken strain of 
 music. The church AA^as crammed full.
 
 366 XETTEES from: ITALY. 
 
 I have heard an excellent kind of musical accompaniment, 
 just as there are concerts of violins, or of other instruments, 
 so here they had concerts of voices ; so that one voice — the 
 soprano for instance — predominates, and sings solo, -while 
 fi-om time to time the chorus of other voices falls in, and 
 accompanies it, ahvaj's of course with the whole orchestra. 
 It has a good effect. I must end, as we in fact ended the 
 day. In the evening we come upon the Opera, where no less 
 a piece than " I Litiganti" was being performed, but we had 
 all the day enjoyed so much of excellence, that we passed 
 by the door. 
 
 Rome, Nov.. 23, 1786. 
 
 In order that it may not be the same v/ith my dear incog- 
 nito as with the ostrich, which thinks itself to be concealed 
 when it has hid its head, so in certain cases I give it up, still 
 maintaining, however, my old thesis. I had without hesita- 
 tion paid a visit of compHment to the Prince von Lichten- 
 stein, the brother of my much-esteemed friend the Countess 
 HaiTach, and occasionally dined Avith him, and I soon per- 
 ceived that my good-natm-e in this instance was Hkcly to 
 lead me much fui-ther. They began to feel their way, and to 
 talk to me of the Abbe Alojiti, and of liis tragedy of Aris- 
 todemus, Avhich is shortly to be brought out on the stage. 
 The author, it was said, wished above all things to read it to 
 me, and to hear my opinion of it, but I contrived, however, 
 to let the matter di-op, without positively refusing ; at last, 
 however, I met the poet and some of his friends at the prince's 
 house, and the play was read aloud. 
 
 The hero is, as is well known, the King of Sparta, who by 
 various scruples of conscience was driven to commit suicide. 
 Prettily enough they contrived to intimate to me their hope 
 that the author of Werther would not take it ill if he found 
 some of the rare passages of his own work made use of 
 in this drama. And so even before the walls of Sparta I can 
 not escape from this unhappy youth. 
 
 The piece has a very simple and calm movement, the 
 sentiments as weU as the language are weU suited to the 
 subject. — full of energy, and yet of tenderness. The work is 
 a proof of very fair talents.
 
 KOME MOIsTl's AEIST0DE3IUS. 367 
 
 I failed not, according to my fasliion, (not, indeed, after 
 the Italian fashion) to point out, and to dwell upon all the 
 excellencies and merits of the piece, with which, indeed, all 
 present were tolerably satisfied, though still with Southern 
 impatience they seemed to require something more. I even 
 ventured to predict what effect it was to be hoped the piece 
 would have from the public. I excused myself on account of 
 mv ignorance of the comitry, its way of thinking and tastes, 
 but was candid enough to add, that I did not clearly see how 
 the Romans, with their vitiated taste, who were accustomed to 
 see as an interlude either a complete comedy of three acts, 
 or an opera of two, or could not sit out a grand opera, without 
 the intermezzo of wholly foreign ballets, could ever take de- 
 light in the calm, noble movement of a regular tragedy. Then, 
 again, the subject of a suicide seemed to me to be altogether 
 out of the pale of an Italian's ideas. That they stabbed men 
 to death, I knew by daily report of such events ; but that any 
 one should deprive himself of his own precious existence, or 
 even should hold it possible for another to do so ; of that no 
 trace or symptom had ever been brought under my notice. 
 
 However I allowed myself to be circumstantially en- 
 lightened as to all that might be urged in answer to my 
 objections, and readily yielded to their plausible arguments. 
 I also assured them I wished for nothing so much as to see 
 the piece acted, and with a band of friends to welcome it 
 with the most downright and loudest applause. This assu- 
 rance was received in the most friendly manner possible, and 
 I had this time at least no cause to be dissatisfied with my 
 compliance — for indeed Prince Lichstenstein is politeness 
 itself, and found opportunity for my seeing in his company 
 many precious works of art, a sight of which is not easily 
 obtained without special permission, and for which conse- 
 quently high influence is indispensable. On the other hand, 
 my good humour failed me, when the daughter of the Preten- 
 der expressed a vrish to see the strange marmoset. I declined 
 the honour, and once more completely shrouded myself beneath 
 my disguise. 
 
 But still that is not altogether the right wa)', and I here 
 feel most sensibly what I have often before observed in life, 
 that the man who makes good his first wish, must be on the 
 alert and active, must oppose himself to very much besides the
 
 368 LETTEKS IKOM ITALY. 
 
 selfish, the mean, and the had. It is easy to see this, but it 
 is extremely difficult to act in the spirit of it. 
 
 Nov. 24, 1786. 
 
 Of the people I can say nothing more than that they are 
 fine children of nature, who, amidst pomp and honom-s of all 
 kinds, religion and the arts, are not one jot different from 
 what thev would be in caves and forests. What strikes the 
 stranger most, and what to-day is making the whole city to 
 talk, but only to talk, is the common occurrence of assassina- 
 tion. To-day the victim has been an excellent artist — 
 8chwendeniann, a Swiss, a medallionist. The particulars of 
 his death greatly resemble those of Windischmann's. The 
 assassin with whom he was struggling gave him twenty stabs, 
 and as the watch came up, the villain stabbed himself. This 
 is not generally the fashion here ; the mm'dercr usually 
 makes for the nearest church, and once there, he is quite 
 safe. 
 
 And now, in order to shade my picture a little, I might 
 bring into it crimes and disorders, earthquakes and inunda- 
 tions of all kinds, but for an eruption of Vesuvius, which has 
 just broke out, and has set almost all the visitors here in 
 motion ; and one must, indeed, possess a rare amount of self- 
 control, not to be carried away by the crowd, lleally this 
 phenomenon of nature has in it something of a resemblance 
 to the rattle-snake, for its attraction is irresistible. At this 
 moment it almost seems as if all the treasm-es of art in Home 
 were tmnihilated ; every stranger, without exception, has 
 broken off the current of his contemplations, and is hurrying 
 to Naples ; I, however, shall stay, in the hoi^e that the moun- 
 tain wiU have a little eruption, expressly for my amusement. 
 
 Rome, Dec. 1, 1786. 
 Moritz is here, who has made himself famous by his 
 " Anthony the Traveller {Anton Reiser,) and his " Wander- 
 ings in England" {Wanderungeii nach England.") He is a 
 right down excellent man, and we have been greatly pleased 
 with him.
 
 ROME — ARCIIKXHOLZ'S ITALY. 069 
 
 Rome, Dec. 1, 178G. 
 
 Here in Rome, wlierc one sees so many strangers, all of 
 Avhom do not visit this capital of the world merely for the 
 sake of the fine arts, but also for amusements of every kind, 
 the people are prepared for everything. Accordingly, they 
 have invented and attained great excellence in certain half 
 arts whicli require for their pursuit little more than manual 
 skill and pleasm-e in such handiwork, and which consequently 
 attract the interest of ordinary visitors. 
 
 Among these is the art of painting in wax. Requir- 
 ing little more than tolerable skill in water- coloiu-ing, it 
 serves as an amusement to employ one's time in preparing 
 and adapting the wax, and then in burning it, and in such likc> 
 mechanical labours. Skilful artists give lessons in the art, and, 
 under the pretext of showing their pupils how to perform 
 their tasks, do the chief part of the -work themselves, so that 
 when at last the figure stands out in bright relief in the 
 gilded frame, the fair disciple is ravished with the proof of 
 her unconscious talent. 
 
 Another pretty occupation is, with a very fine clay, to take 
 impressions of cameos cut in deep relief. This is also done iit 
 the case of medallions, both sides of which are thus copied at 
 once. !More tact, attention, and diligence is required, lasti}', 
 for preparation of the glass-paste for mock jewels. For al. 
 these things Hofrath Reiffenstein has the necessary workshops 
 and laboratories either in his house, or close at hand. 
 
 Dec. 2, 1786. 
 I have accidentally found here Anhcnholtz's Italy. A 
 work written on the spot, in so contracted and narrow- 
 minded a spirit as this, is just as if one were to lay a book 
 purposely on the coals, in order that it might be browned and 
 blackened, and its leaves curled up and disfigured with smoke. 
 No doubt he has seen all that he writes about, but he pos- 
 sesses far too little of real knowledge to support his high pre- 
 tensions and sneering tone ; and whether he praises or blames, 
 he is always in the wrong. 
 
 Vol. ir. 2 b
 
 370 T.ETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 Dec. % 1786. 
 
 Sach beautiful warm and quiet weather at the end of 
 November, (which however is often broken by a day's rain,) 
 is quite nev«- to me. We spend the fine days in the open air, 
 the bad in om- room ; ever^-Avhere there is something to 
 learn and to do. something to be dehghted with. 
 
 On the 28th we paid a second visit to the Sistine Chapel, and 
 had the galleries opened, in order that we might obtain a 
 nearer -vdew of the ceiling. As the galleries are very narrow, 
 it is only M'ith great difficultj'^ that one forces one's way up 
 them, by means of the iron balustrades. There is an appear- 
 ance of clanger about it, on which account those who are liable 
 to get dizz}' had better not make the attempt ; all the discom- 
 fort, however, is fuEy compensated by the sight of the great 
 masterpiece of art. And at this moment I am so taken -nith 
 Michael Angelo, that after him I have no taste even for nature 
 herself, especially as I am unable to contemplate her with the 
 same eye of genius that he did. Oh, that there were only 
 some means of fixing such paintings in my soul ! At any rate, 
 I shall bring with me every engraving and drawing of his pic- 
 tiu'cs or dramngs after him that I can lay hold of. 
 
 Then Ave went to the Loggie, painted by EaffaeUe, and 
 scarcely dare I say that we could not endure to look at 
 them. The eve had been so dilated and spoiled by those great 
 forms, and the glorious finish of every part, that it was 
 not able to foUow the ingenious windings of the Arabesques ; 
 and the Scriptiu-e histories, however beautiful they were, did 
 not stand examiuatlon after the former. And yet to see these 
 works frequently one after another, and to compare them toge- 
 ther at leisure, and without prejudice, must be a som'ce of 
 great pleasm-e, — ^for at fu-st all sj-mpathy is more or less 
 exclusive. 
 
 From hence, imder a sunshine, if anything rather too 
 warm, we proceeded to the ViUa Pamphili, whose beautiful 
 gardens are much resorted to for amusement ; and there we 
 r<»mained till evening. A large flat meadow, enclosed by long 
 ever green oaks and lofty pines, was sown all over with daisies, 
 M'hich tui-ucd their heads to the sun. I now revived my 
 botanical speculations, which I had indulged in the other day 
 during a walk towards Monte ■Mario, to the Villa Melini, and 
 the Villa Madama. It is very interesting to observe the
 
 ROME — THE APOLLO BELVEDERE, &C. 371 
 
 ■working of a vigorous \mceasing vegetation, wliicli is here un- 
 broken by any severe cold. Here there are no buds : one has 
 actually to learn what a bud is. The strawberry-tree {arbictus 
 unedo) is at this season, for the second time, in blossom, while 
 its last fi-uits are just ripening. So also the orange-tree mav 
 seen in flower, and at the same time bearing partially and fullv 
 ripened fruit. (The latter trees, however, if they are not sheltered 
 by standing between buildings, are, at this season, generally 
 covered). As to the cypress, that most " venerable" of trees, 
 when it is old and well grown, it affords matter enough for 
 thought. As soon as possible I shall pay a visit to the Botanical 
 Gardens, and hope to add there much to my experience. 
 Generally, there is nothing to be compared with the new life 
 which the sight of a new country affords to a thoughtful per- 
 son. Although I am still the same being, I yet think I arn 
 changed to the very marrow. 
 
 For the present I conclude, and shall perhaps fill the next 
 sheet with murders, disorders, earthquakes, and troubles, 
 in order that at any rate my pictures may not be without 
 their dark shades. 
 
 Rome, Dec. 3, 1786. 
 
 The weather lately has changed almost every six days. 
 Two days quite glorious, then a doubtfid one, and after it 
 two or three rainy ones, and then again fine weather. I 
 endeavour to put each day, according to its nature, to the 
 best use. 
 
 And yet these glorious objects are even still like new 
 acquaitances to me. One has not yet lived with them, nor got 
 familiar with their peculiarities. Some of them attract us 
 •with irresistible power, so that for a time one feels indifferent, 
 if not unjust, towards all others. Thus, for instance, the Pan- 
 theon, the Apollo Belvedere, some colossal heads, and very 
 recently the Sistinc Chapel, have by turns so won my whole 
 heart, that I scarcely saw any thing besides them. But, 
 in ti-uth, can man, little as man always is, and accustomed to 
 littleness, ever make himself equal to all that here surrounds 
 him of the noble, the vast, and the refined ? Even though 
 he should in any degree adapt himself to it, then how 
 vast is the multitude of objects that immediately press upon 
 
 2 B 2
 
 orZ I/ETXEKS TllOM ITALY, 
 
 him from all sides, aucl meet him at every turn, of which 
 each demands for itself the tribute of his whole attention. 
 Ilo%v is one to get out of the difficulty r No other way 
 assiu-edly than by patiently allowing it to work, becoming 
 industrious, and attending the while to all that others have 
 accomplished for our benefit. 
 
 Winckehnann's History of Art, translated by Rea, (the 
 new edition), is a very useful book, which I have just pro- 
 cured, and here on the spot find it to be highly profitable, as 
 I have around me many kind friends, mlling to explain and 
 to comment upon it. 
 
 Roman antiquities also begin to have a charm for me. 
 History, inscriptions, coins, (of which formerly I knew 
 nothing,) all are pressing upon me. As it happened to me 
 in the case of natural history, so goes it with me here also ; 
 for the history of the whole world attaches itself to this spot, 
 and I reckon a new-birth day, — a true new birth from tlie; 
 dav that I entered Rome. 
 
 December 5, 1786. 
 Dm'ing the few weeks I have been here, I have already seen 
 many strangers come and go, so that I have often wondered at 
 the levity with which so many treat these precious monu- 
 ments. God be thanked that hereafter none of those birds of 
 passage will be able to impose upon me. When in the north 
 they shall speak to me of Rome, none of them now will be 
 able to. excite my spleen, for I also have seen it, and know too, 
 in some degree, where I have been. 
 
 December 8, 1786. 
 
 We have every now and then the finest days possible. The 
 rain Avhich falls from time to time has made the grass and 
 garden stuffs quite verdant. Evergreens too are to be seen 
 here at different spots, so that one scarcely misses the fallen 
 leaves of the forest trees. In the gardens you may see 
 orange-trees fidl of fruit, left in the open ground and not 
 imder cover. 
 
 I had intended to give you a particular account of a ve'y 
 pleasant trip which we took to tlie sea, and of our fishing ex- 
 ploits, but in the evening poor Moritz, as he was riding
 
 ROMi; — avixckelmaxk's letters. 373 
 
 homo, broke his arm, his horse having sh'ppcd on the smooth 
 Roman pavement. This marred all our pleasure, and has 
 plunged our little domestic circle in sad affliction. 
 
 Bee, 15, 1786. 
 
 I am heartily delighted that you have taken my sudden 
 disappearance just as I wished you should. Pray appease 
 for me every one that may have taken offence at it. I never 
 wished to give any one pain, and even now I cannot say 
 anything to excuse myself. God keep me from ever afflicting 
 my friends with the premises which led mc to this conclusion. 
 
 Here I am gradually recovering from my " sal to mortale,"' 
 and studying rather than enjoying myself. Rome is a world, and 
 one must spend years before one can become at all acquainted 
 with it. How happy do I consider those travellers who can 
 take a look at it and go their way ! 
 
 Yesterday many of Winckelmann's letters, which he wrote 
 from Italy, fell into my hands. With what emotions did I 
 not begin to read them. About this same season, some one and 
 thirty years ago, he came hither a still poorer simpleton than 
 myself, but then he had such thorough German enthusiasm 
 for all that is sterling and genuine, either in antiquity or 
 art. How bravely and diligently did he not work his way 
 through all difficulties ; and what good does it not do me, — 
 the remembrance of such a man in such a place I 
 
 After the objects of Nature, who in all her parts is true to 
 herself and consistent, nothing speaks so loudly as the re- 
 membrance of a good intelligent man, — that genuine art which 
 is no less consistent and harmonious than herself. Here in 
 Rome we feel this right well, where so many an arbitraiy 
 caprice has had its day, where so many a folly has immor- 
 talized itself by its power and its gold. 
 
 The following passage in Winckelmanu"s letters to Frau- 
 conia particularly pleased me. "• We must look at all the 
 objects in Rome with a certain degree of phl(>gm, or else one 
 will be taken for a Frenchman. In Rome, I believe, is the 
 high school for all the world, and I also have been pm-ificd 
 and tried in it." 
 
 This remark applies directly to my mode; of visiting the 
 different objects here ; and most certain is it, that out of
 
 374 lETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 Rome no one can have an idea how one is schooled in Rome. 
 One must, so to speak, be new born, and one looks back on 
 one's earlier notions, as a man does on the little shoes, which 
 fitted him when a child. The most ordinary man learns 
 something here, at least he gains one uncommon idea, even 
 though it never should pass into his whole being. 
 
 This letter wUl reach you in the new year. All good 
 wishes for the beginning ; before the end of it we shall see 
 one another again, and that wiU be no little gratification. 
 The one that is passing away has been the most important 
 of my life. I may now die, or I may tarry a little longer yet ; 
 in either case it will be alike well. And now a word or two 
 more for the little ones. 
 
 To the children you may either read or tell what follows. 
 Here there are no signs of winter. The gardens are planted 
 with evergreens ; the sun shines bright and warm ; snow is 
 nowhere to be seen, except on the most distaijt hills towards 
 the north. The citron trees, which are planted against the 
 garden walls, are now, one after another, covered with reeds, but 
 the oranges are allowed to stand quite open. A hundred of the 
 very finest fruit may be seen hanging on a single tree, which 
 is not, as with us, dwarfed, and planted in a bucket, but stands 
 in the earth free and joyous, amidst a long line of brothers. 
 The oranges are even now very good, but it is thought they 
 will be stiU finer. 
 
 We were lately at the sea, and had a haul of fish, and 
 drew to the light fishes, crabs, and rare univalves of the most 
 wonderful shapes conceivable ; also the fish which gives an 
 electric shock to all who touch it. 
 
 Rome, Dec. 20, 1786. 
 And yet, after all, it is more trouble and care than enjoy- 
 ment. The Regenerator, which is changing me within and 
 without, continues to work. I certainly thought that I had 
 something really to learn here : but that I should have to take 
 so low a place in the school, that I must forget so much that 
 I had learnt, or rather absolutely imlearn so much, — that I had 
 never the least idea of. Now, however, that I am once convinced 
 of its necessity, I have dcAoted myself to the task ; and the more 
 I am obliged to renounce my former self, the more delighted I
 
 HOME DK. MUNTEJR. 375 
 
 am. I am like an architect wlio has begun to build a tower, 
 but finds he has laid a bad foundation : he becomes aware of 
 the fact betimes, and willingly goes to work to jjull down all 
 that he has raised above the earth ; having done so, he pro- 
 ceeds to enlarge his ground plan, and now rejoices to anti- 
 cipate the undoubted stability of his future b .lilding. Heaven 
 grant that, on my retimi, the moral consequences may be dis- 
 cernible of all that this living in a vvidcr world has effected 
 within me. For, in sooth, the moral sense as well as the 
 artistic is imdergoing a great change. 
 
 Dr. Miinter is here on his return from his tour in Sicily — 
 an energetic, vehement man. "WTaat objects he may have, I 
 cannot tell. He will reach you in May, and has much to tell 
 you. He has been two years travelling in Italy. He is dis- 
 gusted with the Italians, who have not paid due respect to 
 the weighty letters of recommendation which were to ha,ve 
 opened to hin» many an archive, many a private library ; so 
 that he is far from ha\T.ng accomplished his object in coming 
 here. 
 
 He has collected some beautiful coins, and possesses, he 
 tells me, a manuscript which reduces numismatics to as pre- 
 cise a system of characteristics as the Linna;an system of 
 botany. Herder, he says, knows still more about it : probably 
 a transcript of it will be permitted. To do .something of the 
 kind is certainly possible, and, if well done, it vrill be truly 
 valuable ; and we must sooner or later enter seriously into this 
 branch of learning. 
 
 Rome, Dec. 25, 1786. 
 
 I am now beginning to revisit the principal sights of Rome : 
 in such second views, our first amazement generally dies away 
 into more of sjinpathy and a purer perception of the true value 
 of the objects. In order to form an idea of tlic highest achieve- 
 ments of the human mind, the soul must first attaui to perfect 
 freedom from prejudice and prepossession. 
 
 Marble is a rare material. It is on this accoimt that the 
 Apollo Belvedere in the original is so infinitely ravishing ; for 
 that sublime air of youthlul freedom and vigour, of never- 
 changing juvenescence, w hich breathes around the mai'ble, at 
 once vanishes in the best even of plaster casts.
 
 376 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 In the Palace Ilondanini, which is right opposite to our 
 lodgings, there is a Medusa-mask, above the size of life, in 
 which the attempt to pourtray a lofty and beautiful counte- 
 nance in the numbing agony of death has been indescribably 
 successful. I possess an excellent cast of it, but the charm 
 of the marble remains not. The noble semi-transparency of 
 the yeUoAV stone — approaching almost to the hue of flesh — is 
 vanished. Compared with it, the plaster of Paris has a chalky 
 and dead look. 
 
 And yet how delightful it is to go to a modeller in gy|;)sum, 
 and to see the noble limbs of a statue come out one by one 
 from the mould, and thereby to acquire wholly new ideas of 
 their shapes. And then, again, by such means all that in 
 Home is scattered, is bi'ought together, for the purpose of com- 
 parison ; and this alone is of inestimable service. Accordingly. 
 I could not resist the temptation to procure a cast of the co- 
 lossal head of Jupiter. It stands right opposite to my bed, in 
 a good light, in order that I may addi'ess my morning devo- 
 tions towards it. With aU its grandeur and dignity it has, 
 liowever, given rise to one of the funniest interludes possible. 
 
 Om- old hostess, when she comes to make my bed, is gene- 
 rally follov.-cd by lier pet cat. Yesterday I was sitting in the 
 great hall , and could hear the old woman pm'sue her avocation 
 within. On a sudden, in great haste, and with an excitement 
 quite unusual to her, she oi)ens the door, and calls to me to come 
 quickly and see a wonder. To my question what was the 
 matter, she replied the cat was saying its prayers. Of the 
 animal she had long observed, she told me, that it had a.s 
 inuch sense as a Christian — ^but this was really a great wonder. 
 1 hastened to see it with my own eyes ; and it was indeed 
 strange enough. The bust stood on a high pedestal, and as 
 there was a good length of the shoulders, the head stood 
 lather high. Now the cat had sprung upon the table, and 
 had placed her fore-feet on the breast of the god, and, stretch- 
 ing her body to its utmost length, just reached with her muzzle 
 his sacred beard, Avhich she was licking most ceremoniously ; 
 and neither by the exclamation of the hostess, nor my entrance 
 into tlie room, was she at all distvirbed. I left the good dame 
 to her astonishment ; and she afterwards accounted for puss's 
 strange act of devotion, by sujijiosing tliat this sharp-nosed 
 cat had caught scent of the grease which had probably beea
 
 ROME PORrnAIT RY TISCHBEIN. 377 
 
 transferred from the mould to the deep lines of the beard, and 
 had there remained. 
 
 Bee. 29, 1786. 
 
 Of Tischbcin I have much to say and to boast. In the first 
 place, a thorough and original German, he has made himself 
 entirely what he is. In the next place, I must make gratefid 
 mention of the friendly attentions he has shewn me through- 
 out the time of his second stay in Rome. For he has had 
 prepared for me a series of copies after the best masters, 
 some in black challv, others in sepia and water eolom-s ; which 
 in Germany, when I shall be at a distance from the originals, 
 wiU grow in value, and wiU serve to remind me of all that is 
 rarest and best. 
 
 At the commencement of his career as an artist, when he 
 set up as a portrait painter. Tischbcin came in contact, 
 especially in Munich, with distinguished personages, and in 
 Jiis intercourse with them his feeling of art has been strength- 
 ened and his views enlarged. 
 
 The second part of the " Zcrstrente Blatter' (stray leaves) I 
 have brought with mo hither, and they are doubl}' welcome. 
 What good influence this little book has had on me, even oi\ 
 the second perusal, Herder, for his reward, shall be circum- 
 stantially informed. Tischbcin cannot conceive how anything 
 so excellent coidd ever have been Mrittcn by one who has 
 never been in Italv- 
 
 Dec. 29, 1780. 
 In this world of artists one lives, as it were, in a mirrored 
 chamber, where, without wishing it, one sees one's own image 
 and those of others continually nuiltiplied. Latterly I liave oflen 
 observed Tischbcin attentively regarding me ; and now it 
 appears that he has long cherished the idea of painting my 
 portrait. Ilis design is already settled, and the canvass stretched. 
 I am to be fkawn of the size of life, enveloped in a white mantle, 
 and sitting on a fallen obelisk, viewing the ruins of the Cam- 
 pagna di lloma, which are to fill up the background of the 
 picture. It will form a beautiful piece, only it will be rather 
 too largo for our northern habitations. 1 indeed may again 
 crawl into them, but the portrait will never be able to enter 
 their doors.
 
 S78 
 
 XETTERS.FKOM ITALY. 
 
 Dec. 29, 1786. 
 
 I cannot help obser\-ing the great efforts that are constantlj- 
 being made to diaw me li-om my retirement — how the poets 
 either read or get their pieces read to me ; and I should be 
 blind did I not see that it depends only on myself whether I 
 shall play a part or not. All this is amusing enough ; for I 
 hare long since measured the lengths to which one may go in 
 E.ome. The many little coteries here at the feet of the mis- 
 tress of the world strongly remind one occasionally of an ordi- 
 nary country town. 
 
 In sooth, things here are much like what they are"eveiT 
 where else ; and what could he done loith me and through mo. 
 causes me ennui long before it is accomplished. Here you 
 must take up with one party or another, and help theru to 
 cai-ry on theii- feuds and cabals ; and you must praise these 
 artists and those dilettanti, disparage their rivals, and, above 
 all, be pleased with every thing that the rich and great do. 
 All these little meannesses, then, for the sake of which one is 
 almost ready to leave the world itself, — must I here mix my- 
 self up with them, and that too when I have neither interest 
 nor stake in them r No ; I shall go no further than is merely 
 necessary to know what is going on, and thus to leam, in 
 private, to be more contented A^ith my lot, and to procure for 
 myself and others all the pleasm-e possible in the dear wide 
 world. I wish to see Rome in its abiding and permanent 
 featm-es, and not as it passes and changes with every ten years. 
 Had I time, I might Mish to employ it better. Above all, 
 one may study history here quite differently from what one 
 can on any other spot. In other places one has, as it were, 
 to read oneself into it from without ; here (pne fancies that he 
 reads from within outwai'ds : all ari'anges itself around you. 
 and seems to proceed from you. And this holds good not only of 
 Roman histoiy, but also of that of the whole v/orld. From Rome 
 I can accompany the conquerors on their march to theAYeser 
 or to the Eupkratcs : or, if I msh to be a sight-seeer, I can wait 
 in the Via Sacra for the triumphant generals, and in the mean- 
 time receive for my support the largesses of com and money ; 
 and so take a veiy comfortable share in all the splendoujr. 
 
 Home, Jan. 2, 1787. 
 Men mav say Avhat they will in fi^-our of a written and
 
 KOME MY PLANS FOR THE FUTURE. 379 
 
 oral communication ; it is only in a very few cases indeed that 
 it is at all adequate, for it never can convey the true character 
 of any object soever — ^no, not even of a purely intellectual one. 
 But if one has already enjoyed a sui-e and steady view of the 
 object, then one may profitably hear or read about it, for then 
 there exists a living impression around which all else may 
 arrange itself in the mind ; and then one can think and judge. 
 You have often laughed at me, and wished to drive me 
 away from the peculiar taste I had for examining stones, 
 plants, or animals, from certain theoretical points of view : 
 now, however, I am directing my attention to architects, sta- 
 tuaries, and painters, and hope to find myself learning somc- 
 thins: even from them. 
 
 Without date. 
 
 After all this I must fru-ther speak to you of the state of in- 
 decision I am in with regard to my stay in Italy. In my last 
 letter I wrote you that it was my purpose immediately after 
 Easter to leave Rome, and retm-n home. Until then I shall 
 yet gather a few more sheUs from the shore of the great ocean, 
 and so my -most urgent needs will have been appeased. I am 
 now ciu-ed of a violent passion and disease, and restored to 
 the enjojnnent of life, to the enjoj-ment of history, poetry, and 
 of antiquities, and have treasures which it wdll take me many 
 a long year to polish and to finish. 
 
 Recently, hovrever, friendly voices have reached me to the 
 efiect that I ought not to be in a hm-ry, but to wait till*[ can 
 return home with still richer gains. From the Duke, too, I 
 have received a very kind and considerate letter, in which he 
 excuses me from my duties for an indefinite period, and sets mc 
 quite at ease with* respect to my absence. My mind there- 
 fore turns to the vast field which I must otherwise have left 
 imtrodden. For instance, in the case of coins and cameos, I 
 have as yet been able to do nothing. I have indeed begun to 
 read Winckelmann's History of Art, but have passed over 
 Egypt ; for. I feel once again, that I must look out before 
 me ; and I have done so Avith regard to Egyptian matters. 
 The more we look, the more distant becomes the horizon of 
 art ; and he who would step surely, must step slowly. 
 
 I intend to stay here till the Carnival ; and, in the first week 
 of Lent, shall set ofi" for Naples, taking Tischbein with mc.
 
 380 LETTERS FROM ITALT. 
 
 both because it will be a treat to him; and because, in his 
 society, all my enjo;yTnents are more than doubled. I purpose; 
 to return hither before Easter, for the sake of the solemnities of 
 Passion week. But there Sicily lies — there below. A journey 
 thither requires more preparation, and ought to be taken too 
 in the autumn : it must not be merely a ride round it and across 
 it, which is soon done, but from which one brings away with 
 us in return for om' fatigue and money nothing but a simple — 
 / have seen if. The best way is to take up one's quarters, first 
 of all, in Palermo, and afterwards in Catania ; and then from 
 those points to make fixed and profitable excirrsions, having 
 prevaously, however, well studied Riedesel and others on the 
 locality. 
 
 If, then, I spend the summer in Rome, I shall set to work to 
 study, and to prepare myself for visiting Sicily. As I cannot 
 well go there before November, and must stay there till over 
 December, it will be the spring of 1788 before I can hope to 
 get home again. Then, again, I have had before ray mind a 
 medius terminus. Giving up the idea of visiting Sicily, I have 
 thought of spending a part of the summer at Rome, and then, 
 after paying a second visit to Florence, getting home by the 
 autumn. 
 
 But all these plans have been much perplexed by the news of 
 the Didvc's misfortune. Since the letters which informed me 
 of this event I have had no rest, and would most hke to set off 
 at Easter, laden with the fragments of my conquests, and, 
 passing quickly through Upper Italy, be in Weimar again by 
 June. 
 
 I am too much alone here to decide ; and I wi-ite you this long 
 story of my whole position, that you may be good enough to sum- 
 mon a council of those who love me, and who, being on the spot, 
 know the circumstances better than I do. Let them, therefore, 
 determine the proper com-se for me to take, on the supposition 
 of what, I assure you, is the f\ict, that I am myself more dis- 
 posed to return than to stay. The strongest tie that holds me 
 in Italy is Tischbein. I shoidd never, even should it be my 
 happy lot to return a second time to this beautiful land, Icai-n 
 so much in so short a time as I have now done in the society 
 of this well-educated, highly refined, and most upright man, 
 who is devoted to me both body and soid. I cannot now teU 
 you hoAv thickly the scales arc falling from off my eyes. He who 
 
 il
 
 KOME — COLOSSAi. HEAD OF Ju^■o. 381 
 
 travels by night, takes the dawn for day, and a ram-Icy day for 
 brightness : what will he thmk. then, when he shall see the 
 sun ascending the mid-heaven r For I have hitherto kept 
 myself from all the world, which yet is yearning to catch me 
 by degrees, and which I, for my part, was not unwilling to 
 watch and observe with stealthy glances. 
 
 I have written to Fritz a joking account of my reception 
 into the Arcadia ; and indeed it is only a subject of joke, for 
 the Institute is really sunk into miserable insignificance. 
 
 Next Monday week Monti's tragedy is to be acted. He is 
 extremely anxious, and not without cause. He has a very 
 troublesome public, which requii-e's to be amused from moment 
 to moment ; and his piece has no brilliant passages in it. He 
 has asked me to go with him to his box, and to stand by him 
 as confessor in this critical moment. Another is ready to 
 ti'anslate my " Iphigenia;" another — to do I know not what, in 
 honour of me. They arc all so divided into parties, and so 
 bitter against each other. But my countrymen are so unani- 
 mous in my favour, that if I gave them any encourage- 
 ment, and yielded to them in the veiy least, they Avould try a 
 hundred follies with me, and end with crowning me on the 
 Capitol, of which they have already seriously thought — so 
 foolish is it to have a stranger and a Protestant to play the 
 first part in a comedy. What connexion there is in all tliis, 
 and how great a fool I was to think that it was all intended 
 for my honour, — of all this we Avill talk together one day. 
 
 January/ 6, 1787. 
 
 I have just come fromMoritz, whose arm is healed, and loosed 
 from its bandages. It is well set, firm, and he can move it quite 
 freely. What dm-ing these last forty days I have experienced 
 and learned, as nurse, confessor, and private secretary to this 
 patient, may prove of benefit to us hereafter. The most pain- 
 ful sufferings and the noblest enjoyments went side by side 
 throughout this whole period. 
 
 To refresh me, I yesterday had set up in our sitting-room 
 a cast of a colossal head of Juno, of which the original is in 
 the Villa Ludovisi. This was my fa'st love in Rome ; and now 
 I have gained the object of my wishes. No words can give 
 the remotest idea of it. It is like one of Homer's songs.
 
 382 XHTTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 I have, liowever, desened the neighboui-hood of such good 
 society for the future, for I can now tell you that Iphigenia 
 is at last finished — i. c. that it lies before me on the table in 
 two tolerably concordant copies, of which one will very soon 
 begin its pilgrimage towards yourself. Receive it with all 
 indulgence, for, to speak the truth, what stands on the paper 
 is not exactly what I intended ; but still it will convey an idea 
 of what was in my mind. 
 
 You complain occasionally of some obscui'e passages in 
 my letters, wliich allude to the oppi'ession, which I suffer in 
 the midst of the most glorious objects in the world. With 
 all this my fellow traveller, this Grecian princess, has had a 
 great deal to do, for she has kept me close at work when I 
 wished to be seeing sights. 
 
 I often think of om- worthy friend, who had long detcnnined 
 upon a gi-and torn*, which one might well term a voyage of 
 discovery. After he had studied and economized several 
 years, with a view to tliis object, he took it in his head to 
 carry away with him the daughter of a noble house, thinking 
 it was all one still. 
 
 With no less of caprice, I detei-mined to take Iphigenia 
 with me to Carslbad. I v,-ill now briefly enumerate the 
 places where I held special converse with her. 
 
 ^\1len I had left behind me the Brenner, I took her out of 
 my lai'ge portmanteau, and placed her by my side. At the 
 Lago di Garda, while the strong south %vind drove the waves 
 on the beach, and Avhere I was at least as much alone as 
 my heroine on the coast of Tauris, I di'ew the first 
 outlines, which afterwai'ds I filled up at Verona, Vicenza, 
 and Padua ; but above all, and most dih'gently at Venice. 
 After this, however, the v.ork came to a stand-still, for I hit 
 upon a new design, viz., of writing an Iphigenia at Delphi, 
 which I should have immediately earned into execution, but 
 for the distractions of my young, and for a feeling of duty 
 towards the older piece. 
 
 In Rome, however, I went on with it, and proceeded with 
 tolerable steadiness. Every evening before I went to sleep 
 I prepared myself for my morning's task, which Avas resumed 
 immediately I awoke. My way of proceeding was quite 
 simple. I calmly wrote down the piece, and tried the melody 
 line by line, and period by period. What has been thiis
 
 KOME — CHRISTJIAS-DAT. 383 
 
 ])roduced, you shall soon judge of. For my part, doing this 
 work, I have learnt more than I have done. With the piece 
 itself there shall follow some fmlher remarks. 
 
 Ja7i. 6, 1787. 
 
 To speak again of church matters, I must tell you that on 
 the night of Christmas-day we wandered about in troops, and 
 visited aU the chm'ches where solemn services were being per- 
 formed ; one especially was visited, because of its organ and 
 music. The latter was so arranged, that in its tones nothing 
 belonging to pastoral music was wanting — neither the singing 
 of the shepherds, nor the twittering of birds, nor the bleating 
 of sheep. 
 
 On Chi-istmas-day I saw the Pope and the whole consistoiy in 
 S. Peter's, where he celebrated high mass partly before and 
 partly from his throne. It is of its kind an unequalled sight, 
 splendid and dignified enough, but I have grown so old in my 
 Protestant Diogenism, that this pomp and splendour revolt 
 more than they attract me. I, like my pious forefathers, am dis- 
 posed to say to these spiritual conquerors of the world, " Hide 
 not from me the sun of higher art and purer humanity." 
 
 Yesterday, which was the Feast of Epiphany, I saw and 
 heard mass celebrated after the Greek rite. The ceremonies 
 appeared to me more solemn, more severe, more suggestive, 
 and yet more popular than the Latin. 
 
 But there, too, I also felt again that I am too old for any- 
 thing, except for truth alone. Their ceremonies and operatic 
 music, their gyi'ations and ballet-Hke movements — it all 
 passes off from me like water from an oilskin cloak. A work 
 of nature, however, like that of a Sunset seen from the 
 Villa Madonna — a work of art, like ray much honoured Juno, 
 makes a deep and vivid impression on me. 
 
 And now I must ask you to congratulate me with regard to 
 theatrical matters. Next week seven theatres will be opened, 
 .iinfossi himself is here, and will act " Alexander in India." 
 A Cyras also will be represented, and the "Taking of 
 Troy" as a ballet. That assuredly must be sometliijig for 
 the children!
 
 384 XETTERS FSOM ITALY. 
 
 Rome, Jan. 10, 1787. 
 
 Here, thea, comes the '• child of soitotvs," for this sur- 
 name is clue to " Iphigenia" in more than one sense. On the 
 occasion of my reading it out to our artists, I put a mark 
 against several lines, some of \A'hich I have in my opinion 
 improved, but others I have allowed to stand — perhaps Herdei 
 ■>vill cross a few of them -with his pen. 
 
 The true cause of my having for many yeai"s preferred 
 prose for my works, is the great uncertainty in which our 
 prosody fluctuates, in consequence of which many of m-v 
 judicious, learned friends and fellow artists have left manv 
 things to taste, a coiu'se, however, which was little favour- 
 able to the establishing of anv certain standard. 
 
 I should never have attemj^ted to translate '■ Iphigenia'' 
 into iambics, had not Moritz's prosody shone upon me like a 
 star of light. ISIy conversation with its author, especially 
 during his confinement from his accident, has still more en- 
 lightened me on the subject, and I woidd recommend my 
 friends to think favourably of it. 
 
 It is somewhat singular, that in our language we have but 
 very few syllables which are decidedly long or short. With all 
 the others, one proceeds as taste or caprice may dictate. 
 Now Moritz, after much thought, has hit upon the idea that 
 there is a certain order of rank among our syllables, and that 
 the one which in sense is more emphatic is long as compared 
 with the less significant, and makes the latter short, but on the 
 other hand, it does in its turn become short, whenever it 
 comes into the ncighbom'hood of another which possesses 
 greater weight and emphasis than itself. Here, then, is at 
 least a rule to go by : and even though it does not decide the 
 whole matter, still it opens out a path by which one may hope 
 to get a little further. I have often allowed myself to be 
 influenced by these rides, and generally have found my ear 
 agreeing with them. 
 
 As I formerly spoke of a public reading, I must quietly 
 tell you how it passed off'. These young men accustomed to 
 those earlier vehement and impetuous pieces, expected some- 
 thing after the foshion of Bcrlichingen, and could not so well 
 make out the colm movement of '• Iphigenia," and yet the 
 nobler and purer passages did not fail of effect. Tischbein, 
 
 m\
 
 ROME A STATUE OF JIIJiERVA. 385 
 
 wlio also could hardly reconcile himself to this entire absence of 
 passion, produced a prett_y illustration or sjTnbol of the work, 
 lie illustrated it by a sacrifice, of which the smoke, borne down 
 by a light breeze, descends to the earth, vthile the freer fiamo 
 strives to ascend on high. The drawing was very prettj'^ and 
 significant. I have the sketch still by me. And thus the 
 work, which I thought to despatch in rio time, has employed, 
 hindered, occupied, and tortured me a fall quarter of a year. 
 This is not the first time that I have made an important 
 task a mere by-work : but we will on that subject no longer 
 indidge in fancies and disputes. 
 
 I inclose a beautiful cameo. — a lion with a gad-fly buzzing 
 at his nose ; this seems to have been a favom-ite subject witk 
 the ancients, for they have repeated it very often. I should like 
 you from this time forward to seal your letters with it, in 
 order that through this (little) trifle an echo of art may, as 
 it were, reverberate from you to me. 
 
 Rome, Jan. 13, 1787. 
 
 II0-.V much have I to say each day, and how sadly am I pre- 
 vented, either by amusement or occupation, from committing 
 to paper a single sage remark! And then again, the fine 
 days when it is better to be any^'hcre rather than in one's 
 room, which, without stove or chimney, receive us only to 
 sleep or to discomfort ! Some of the incidents of the last week, 
 however, must not be left unrecorded. 
 
 In the Palace Giustiuiani there is a Minerva, which claims 
 my undivided homage. Winckclmann scarcely mentions it. 
 and, at any rate, not in the right place ; and I feel myself 
 quite imworthy to say anything about it. As wo contem- 
 plated the image, and stood gazing at it a long time, the 
 wife of the keeper of the collection said — ^This must have once 
 been a holy image ;_ and the English, who happen to be of 
 /Aw religion, are still accustomed to pay worshiji to it by 
 kissing this hand of it, (which in truth was quite white, 
 \vhile the rest of the statue was brownish). She fm-ther told 
 us, that a lady of this reHgion had been there not long before, 
 and, throwing herself on her knees before the statue, had 
 regularly offered prayer to it ; and I, she said, as a Christian, 
 could not help smiling at so strange an action, and was. 
 
 Vox. II. 2 c
 
 386 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 obliged to rim out of the room, lest I should burst out into a 
 loud laugh before her face. As I was uuwiliiug to move froiu 
 the statue, she asked me if my beloved was at all like the 
 statue that it charmed me so much. The good dame knew of 
 nothing besides devotion or love ; but of the pm-e admira- 
 tion for a glorious piece of man's handiwork, — of a mere 
 sjTiipathetic veneration for the creation of the human intel- 
 lect, she could form no idea. We rejoiced in that noble 
 Englishwoman, and went away M'ith a longing to turn oui* 
 steps back again, and I shall certainly soon go once more 
 thither. If my friends wish for a more particular descrip- 
 tion, let them read what Winckelmann says of the high style 
 of art among the Greeks ; unfortunately, however, he docs 
 not adduce this Minerva as an illustration. But if I do not 
 greatly err, it is, nevertheless, of this liigh and severe style, 
 since it passes into the beautiful, — it is, as it were, a bud that 
 opens, — and so a Minerva, whose character this idea of tran- 
 sition so well suits. 
 
 Now for a spectacle of a different kind. On the feast of 
 the Three Kings, or the Commemoration of Christ's manifes- 
 tation to the Gentiles, we paid a visit to the Propaganda. 
 There, in the presence of three cardinals and a large audience, 
 an essay was first of all delivered, which ti-cated of the place 
 in which the Virgin Maiy received the three Magi, — in the 
 stable, — or if not, where ? Next, some Latin verses were 
 read on similar subjects, and after this a series of about 
 thirty scholars came forward, one by one, and read a little 
 piece of poetry in theii- native tongues ; Malabar, Epirotic, 
 Turkish, Moldavian, Hellenic, Persian, Colchian, Hebrew, 
 Arabic, S^Tian, Coptic, Saracenic, Armenian, Erse, Mada- 
 gassic, Icelandic, Bohemian, Greek, Isam-ian, .^thiopic, 
 &:c. The poems seemed for the most part to be composed in 
 the national syllabic measure, and to be delivered with the 
 vernacular declamation, for most barbaric rhythms and tones 
 occurred. Among them the Gi'eek sounded like a star in the 
 night. The unditory laughed most unmercifully at the 
 strange sounds; and so this representation also became a 
 farce. 
 
 And now (before concluding) a little anecdote, to show 
 with what levity holy things are treated in Holy Rome. The 
 deceased cardinal, Albani, was once present at one of those
 
 ROME MONTI, " AKISTODEMO." 387 
 
 festal meetings Avhlcli I have just been describing. One of 
 the scholars, with his face turned towards the Cardinals, 
 began in a strange pronunciation, Gnnja ! Gnaja ! so that it 
 sounded something like canaglia ! canac/lia ! The Cardinal 
 tm-ned to his brothers with a whisper, " He knows us at 
 any rate." 
 
 Jamiary 13, 1787. 
 How much has Winckelmann done, and j^et how mucii 
 reason has he left us to wish that he had done still more. 
 With the materials which he had collected he built quickly, 
 in order to reach the roof. Were he still living, he would 
 be the first to give us a re- cast of his great work. What 
 further observations, what corrections would he not have 
 made — to what good use woidd he not have put all that others , 
 following his own principles, have observed and effected. 
 And, besides, Cardinal Albani is dead, out of respect to 
 whom he has written much ; and, perhaps, concealed much. 
 
 January 15, 1787. 
 
 And so then, "Aristodemo" has at last been acted, and 
 with good success too, and the greatest applause ; as the 
 Abbate Monti is related to the house of the Nepote, and is 
 Mghly esteemed among the higher orders : from these, there- 
 fore, all was to be hoped for. The boxes indeed were but 
 sparing in their plaudits ; as for the pit, it was won from the 
 very first, by the beautiful language of the poet and the 
 appropriate recitation of the actors, and it omitted no 
 opportunity of testifying its approbation. The bench of the 
 German artists distinguished itself not a little ; and this time 
 they were quite in place, though it is at all times a little 
 overloud. 
 
 The author himself remained at home, full of anxiety for 
 the success of the piece. From act to act favourable des- 
 patches arrived, wliich changed his fear into the greatest 
 joy. Now there is no lack of repetitions of the representa- 
 tion, and all is on the best track. Thus, by the most 
 opposite things, if only each has the merit it claims, the 
 f\ivour of the multitude, as well as of the connoisseur, may 
 be won. 
 
 2c 2
 
 388 LETTEUS FKOJI ITALY. 
 
 But tlie acting was in the highest degree meritorious, and 
 the chief actor, who appears thioughout the piece, spoke and 
 acted cleverly, — one could 'almost fancy one of the ancient 
 Caesars was marching before us. They had very judiciously 
 transferred to their stage dresses the costume which, in the 
 statue, strikes tlie spectator as so dignified ; and one saw at 
 once that the actor had studied the antique. 
 
 January 18, 1787. 
 
 Home is threatened with a gi-eat artistic loss. The King 
 of Naples has ordered the Hercules Farnese to be brought to 
 his palace. The news has made all the artists quite sad ; 
 however, on this occasion, we shall ^see something which was 
 hidden from our forefathers. 
 
 The aforesaid statue, namely, from the head to the knee, 
 with the lower part of the feet, together with the sockle on 
 which it stood, were found within the Farncsian domain, but 
 the legs from the knee to the ancle were wanting, and had 
 been supplied by Giuglielmo Porta ; on these it had stood since 
 its discovery to the present day. In the mean time, how- 
 ever, the genuine old legs Avere found in the lands of tlni 
 Borghesi, and were to bo seen in their villa. 
 
 Kecently, however, the Prince Borgliese has achieved a 
 victory over himself, and has made a present of these costly 
 relics to the King of Naples. The legs by Porta are being 
 removed, and the genuine ones replaced; and every one is 
 promising himself, however well contented he has been 
 hitherto with the old, quite a new treat, and a more harmo- 
 nious enjoyment. 
 
 Rome, January 18, 1787. 
 
 Yesterday, which was the festival of the Holy Al)bot S. 
 Antony, we had a merry day ; the weathei" was the finest in 
 the world; though there had been a hard frost during the 
 night, the day was bright and AAarm. 
 
 One may remark, that all religions which enlarge their 
 Avorship or thdr speculations mvist at last come to this, 
 of making the brute creation in some degree partakers of 
 spiritual favouis. S. Anthony, — Abbot or Bishop, — is the 
 patron Saint of all four-footed cicatm-es ; his festival is a kind
 
 ROME — DEATH OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. 389 
 
 of Saturnallan holiday for the otherwise oppressed beasts, and 
 also for their keepers and drivers. All the gentry must on 
 this day either remain at home, or else be content to tra\el 
 on foot. And there are no lack of fearful stories, which tell 
 how unbelieving masters, who forced their coachmen to drive 
 them on this day, were punished by suffering great calamities. 
 
 The church of the Saint lies in so wide and open a district, 
 that it might almost be called a desert. On this day, however, 
 it is full of life and fun. Horses and mules, with their manes 
 and tails prettily, not to say gorgeously, decked out with 
 ribbons, are brought before the little chapel, (vrhich stands 
 at some distance from the church,) where a priest, armed 
 Avith a brush, and not sparing of the holy water, which stands 
 before him in buckets and tubs, goes on s^jrinkling the lively 
 creatures, and often plays them a roguish trick, in order to make 
 them start and frisk. Pious coachmen offer their wax-tapers, of 
 larger or smaller size ; the masters send alms and presents, 
 in order that the valuable and useful animals jnay go safely 
 through the coming year without hurt or accidents. Tht^ 
 donldes and horned cattle, no less valuable and useful to their 
 owners, have, hkewise, their modest share in this blessing. 
 
 Afterwards we delighted ourselves with a long walk under 
 a delicious sky, and sm-roimded by the most interesting 
 objects, to which, however, we this time paid very little 
 attention, but gave full scope and rein to joke and mer- 
 riment. 
 
 Rome, January 19, 1787. 
 
 So then the great king, whose glory filled the Avorld, whose 
 deeds make him worthy even of the Papists' paradise, ha.s 
 departed this life, and gone to converse with heroes like him- 
 self in the realm of shades. IIow disposed does one feel to 
 sit still when such an one is gone to his rest. 
 
 This has been a very good day. First of all we visited a 
 part of the Capitol, which we had previously neglected ; then 
 Ave crossed the Tiber, and di-ank some Spanish wine on 
 board a ship which had just come into port : — it was on this 
 spot that Romulus and llemus are said to have been found. 
 Thus keeping, as it were, a double or treble festival, we 
 revelled in the inspiration of art, of a mild atmosphere, and 
 of antiquarian reminiscences.
 
 890 XETTEKS FKOil ITALY. 
 
 January 20, 1787. 
 
 What at first furnishes a hearty enjoyment, when we take 
 it supei-ficially only, often weighs on us afterwards most 
 oppressively, when we see that without solid knowledge the 
 true delight must be missed. 
 
 As regards anatomy, I am pretty well prepared, and I have, 
 not without some labour, gained a tolerable knowledge of the 
 human fi-ame ; for the continual examination of the ancient 
 statues is continiially stimidating one to a more perfect under- 
 standing of it. In our Medico Chirurgical Anatomy, little 
 more is in view than an acquaintance v.ith the several parts, 
 and for this purpose the sorriest picture of the muscles may 
 sei-ve very well ; but in Rome the most exquisite parts would 
 not even be noticed, unless as helping to make a noble and 
 beautiful form. 
 
 In the great Lazaretto of San Spirito there has been pre- 
 pared for the use of the artists a very fine anatomical figure, 
 displaying the whole muscular system. Its beauty is really 
 amazing. It might pass for some flayed demigod, — even a 
 ?*Iarsyas. 
 
 Thus, after the example of the ancients, men here study 
 the human skeleton, not merely as an artistically arranged 
 series of bones, but rather for the sake of the ligaments with 
 which life and motion are carried on. 
 
 When now I tell you, that in the evening we also study 
 perspective, it must be pretty plain to you that we are not 
 idle. With all oiu- studies, however, we are always hoping 
 to do more than we ever accomplish. 
 
 Home, January 22, 1787. 
 
 Of the artistic sense of Germans, and of their artistic life, 
 of these one may well say, — One hears sounds, but they are 
 not in imison. When now I bethink myself what glorious 
 objects are in my neighbourhood, and how little I have pro- 
 fited by them, I am almost tempted to despair ; but then 
 again I console myself with my promised return, when I 
 hope to be able to miderstand these master-pieces, aroimd 
 which now I go groping miserably in the dark. 
 
 But, in fact, even in Rome itself, there is but little pro- 
 vision made for one who earnestly wishes to study art as a 
 
 rii
 
 KOME THE KESIOVAL OF ANTIQUES. 391 
 
 -whole. He must patcli it up and put it together for himself out 
 of endless but still gorgeously rich ruins. No doubt but few- 
 only of those who visit Rome, are pui-ely and earnestly desi- 
 rous to see and to learn things rightly and thoroughly. They 
 all follow, more or less, their own fancies and conceits, and 
 this is observed by all alike who attend upon the strangers. 
 Every guide has his own object, every one has his own 
 dealer to recommend, his own ai-tist to favour ; and why 
 should he not? for docs not the inexperienced at once 
 prize, as most excellent, whatever may be presented to him 
 as such ? 
 
 It woidd have been a great benefit to the study of art — indeed 
 a peculiarly rich museum might have been formed — if the 
 government, (whose pennission even at present must be 
 obtained before any piece of antiquity can be removed from 
 the city,) had on such occasions invariably insisted on casts 
 being delivered to it of the objects removed. Besides, if 
 any Pope had established such a rule, before long every one 
 would have opposed all further removals ; for in a few years 
 people would have been frightened at the number and value 
 of the treasures thus carried off, for which, even now, per- 
 mission can only be obtained by secret influence. ■% 
 
 January 22, 1 787. 
 
 The representation of the "Aristodemo" has stimulated, in 
 an especial degree, the patriotism of our German artists, which 
 before was far from being asleep. They never omit an occasion 
 to speak well of my " Iphigenia ;" some passages have from 
 time to time been again called for, and I have found myself 
 at last compelled to a second reading of the whole. And 
 thus also I have discovered many passages which went off 
 the tongue more smoothly than they look on the paper. 
 
 The favorable report of it has at last sounded even in the 
 ears of ReifFenstein and Angelica, who entreated that I should 
 produce my work once more for their gratification. I begged, 
 however, for a brief respite, though I was obliged to describe to 
 them, somewhat circumstantially, the plan and movement ot 
 the plot. The description won the approbation of these person 
 ages more even than I could have hoped for; and Signoi 
 Zucchi also, of v.hom I least of all expected it, evinced a warm
 
 S92 XETTEKS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 and Kberal spupathy with the piece. The latter circumstance, 
 however, is easily accounted for by the fact that the drama 
 approximates very closely to the old and customary form of 
 Greek, French, and Italian tragedy, which is most agree- 
 able to every one whose taste has not been spoilt by the teme- 
 rities of the English stage. 
 
 Rome, Jan. 25, 1787. 
 
 It becomes every day more difficult to fix the termination 
 of my stay in Rome ; just as one finds the sea continually 
 deeper the further one sails on it, so it is also vrixh the exa- 
 mination of tliis city. 
 
 It is impossible to understand the present without a know- 
 ledge of the past ; and to compare the two, requires both tiim.^ 
 and leism-e. The very site of the city carries us back to the 
 time of its being founded. "We see at once that no great 
 people, under a wise leader, settled here fi-om its wanderings, 
 and v.ith wise forecast laid the foundations of the seat of future 
 empire. No powerful prince would ever have selected this spot 
 as well suited for the habitation of a colony. No ; herdsmen 
 and vagabofeds first prepared here a dwelling for themselves : 
 a couple of adventm-ous youths laid the foundation of the 
 jialaccs of the masters of the world on the hill at whose foot . 
 amidst the marshes and the silt, they had defied the officers 
 of lav,- and justice. Moreover, the seven hiUs of 'Rome are not 
 elevations above the land which lies beyond them, but merely 
 above the Tiber and its ancient bed, which afterwards became 
 the Campus Martins. If the coming spring is favourable to 
 my making wider excursions in the neighbom-hood, I shall 
 be able to describe more fully the unfavourable site. Even 
 now I feel the most lieartfelt sympathy with the grief and 
 lamentation of the Avonien of Alba whey they saw their cit}- 
 destroyed, and Mere forced to leave its beautiful site, the 
 fhoice of a wise prince and leader, to share the fogs of the 
 I'lber, and to people the miserable Ca?lian hill, from which 
 their eyes still fell upon the paradise they had been di-awn 
 from, 
 
 I know as yet but little of the neighbourhood, but I am 
 perfectly convinced that no city of the ancient world wai> 
 worse situated than Rome : no wonder, then, if the Romans,
 
 TvOMK rATHEK JACQClER. 393 
 
 as soon as they had swallowed up all the neighbourmg; states. 
 went out of it, and, with their villas, returned to the noble 
 sites of the cities they had destroyed, in order to live and to 
 enjoy life. 
 
 Rome, Jan. 25, 1787. 
 
 It suggests a very pleasing contemplation to think l>.ow 
 many people are living here in retirement, calmly occupied 
 with their several tastes and pm-suits. In the house of a 
 clergyman, who, Avithout any particular natm-al talent, has 
 nevertheless devoted himself to the arts, we saw most interest- 
 ing copies of some excellent paintings which he had imitated 
 in miniature. His most successful attempt was after the Last 
 Supper of Leonardo da Vinci. The moment of time is when 
 the Lord, who is sittuig familiarly at supper with his disciples, 
 utters the awfvd words, " One of you shall beh-ay me." 
 
 Hopes arc entertained that he will allov/ an engraving to 
 be taken either of this or of another copy, on which he is at 
 present engaged. It Avill be indeed a rich present to give to 
 the great public a faithful imitation of this gem of art. 
 
 A few days since I visited, at ■'he Trinitii do' 3»Ionte, Father 
 Jacquier, a Franciscan. He is a Frenchman by birth, and 
 well known bv his mathematical writings ; and although far 
 advanced in years, is still very agreeable and intelligent, lie 
 has been acquainted with all the most distinguished men of 
 his day, and has even spent several months with ^'oltaire, who 
 had a great liking for him. 
 
 I have also become acquainted with many move of 
 such good, sterling men. of whom countless niunbers are 
 to be found here, whom, however, a sort of professional mis- 
 trust keeps estranged from each other. The book-trade fur- 
 nishes no point of miion, and literary novelties are seldom 
 fmitfid ; and so it befits the solltaiy to seek out the hermits. 
 For since the acting of " Aristodemo," in whosefavour wemade 
 a very lively demonstration, I have been again much sought 
 after. But it was quite clear I was not sought for my ov,-n 
 sake ; it was ah\ays with a view to strengthen a party — to 
 use me as an instrument ; and if I had been willing to come 
 forward and declare my side, I also, as a phantom, should for 
 a time have played a short part. But now, since they see that
 
 394 XEXTEBS FROil ITALY. 
 
 notliing is to be made of me, tliey let me pass ; and so I go 
 steadily on my own way. 
 
 Indeed, my existence has lately taken in some ballast, which 
 gives it the necessary gravity. I do not now frighten myself 
 with the spectres which used so often to play before my eyes. 
 Be, therefore, of good heart. You wiU keep me above water, 
 and draw me back again to you. 
 
 RoTtne^ Jan. 28, 1787. 
 
 Two considerations which more or less affect every thing, 
 and which one is compelled at every moment to give way to, 
 I must not fail to set doAATi, now that they have become quite 
 clear to me. 
 
 First of all, then, the vast and yet merely fragmentary riches 
 of this city, and each single object of art, is constantly suggest- 
 ing the question. To what date does it owe its existence? 
 Winckelmann m-gently calls upon us to separate epochs, to dis- 
 tinguish the different styleswhich the several masters employed, 
 and the way in which, in the course of time, they gradually per- 
 fected them, and at last coiTupted them again. Of the necessity 
 of so doing, every real friend of art is soon thoroughly convinced. 
 We all acknowledge the justice and the importance of the 
 requisition. But now, how to attain to this conviction ? How- 
 ever clearly and correctly the notion itself may be conceived, 
 yet without long preparatory labom-s there will always be a 
 degree of vagueness and obscuritj' as to the particular appli- 
 cation. A sui'e C3"e, strengthened by many years' exercise, is 
 above aU else uecessaiy. Here hesitation or reserve are of no 
 avail. Attention, however, is now directed to this point ; and 
 every one who is in any degree in earnest seems con\inced 
 that in this domain a sure judgment is impossible, imless 
 it has been formed by historical study. 
 
 The second consideration refers exclusively to the arts of 
 the Greeks, and endeavours to ascertain how those inimitable 
 artists proceeded in their succcssfid attempts to evolve from 
 the human form their system of divine tj-pes, which is so per- 
 fect and complete, that neither any leading character nor any 
 intermediate shade or transition is wanting. For my part, I 
 cannot withhold the conjectui-c that they proceeded according 
 to the same laws that Nature works bv, and which I am endca-
 
 KOME — THE COLISEUM. 395 
 
 vouring to discover. Only, there is in tliem something more 
 besides, which it is impossible to express. 
 
 Eome, Feb. 2, 1787. 
 Of the beauty of a walk through Rome by moonlight it is 
 impossible to form a conception, without having witnessed it.^ 
 All single objects are swallowed up by the great masses of 
 light and shade, and nothing but grand and general outlines 
 present themselves to the eye. For three several days we 
 have enjoyed to the full the brightest and most glorious of 
 nights. Peculiarly beautiful at such a time is the Coliseum. 
 At night it is always closed; a hermit dwells in a little 
 shrine within its range, and beggars of all kinds nestle 
 beneath its crumbling arches : the latter had lit a fire on the 
 arena, and a gentle wind bore doAvn the smoke to the ground, 
 so that the lower portion of the ruins was quite hid by it, 
 •while above the vast walls stood out in deeper darkness 
 before the eye. As we stopped at the gate to contemplate 
 the scene through the iron gratings, the moon shone brightly 
 in the heavens above. Presently the smoke found its way up 
 the sides, and through every chink and opening, while the 
 moon lit it up like a cloud. The sight was exceedingly glo- 
 rious. In such a light one ought also to see the Pantheon, 
 the Capitol, the Portico of St. Peter's, and the other grand 
 streets and squares : — and thus sun and moon, like the human 
 mind, have quite a different work to do here from elsewhere, 
 where the vastest and yet the most elegant of masses present 
 themselves to their rays. 
 
 Eome, Feb. 13, 1787. 
 I must mention a trifling fall of luck, even though it is but 
 a little one. However, all luck, whether great or little, is of 
 one Idnd, and always brings a joy with it. Near the Trinita 
 de' Monte the ground has been lately dug up to foim a foim- 
 dation for the new Obelisk, and now the whole of this region 
 is choked up with the ruins of the Gardens of Lucullus, which 
 subsequently became the property of the Emperors. Mypen-u- 
 quier was passing early one morning by the spot, and found in 
 the pile of eaith a fiat piece of burnt clay, with some figures on it.
 
 396 LETTERS prom: ITALY. 
 
 Having washed it, he showed it to me. I eagerly secm-ed 
 the treasiu-c. It is not quite a hand long, and seems to have 
 been part of the stem of a great key. Two old men stand 
 before an altar ; they are of the most beautiful workmanship, 
 and I am uncommonly delighted with my new acquisition. 
 Were they on a cameo, one would greatly like to use it as a 
 seal. 
 
 I have by me a collection also of many other objects, and 
 none is Avortliless or unmeaning, — for that is impossible ; here 
 everything is instructive and significant. But my dearest 
 treasure, however, is even that which I carry with me in my 
 soul, and which, every growing, is capable of a still greater 
 in-o\^'th. 
 
 Rome, Feh 15, 1787. 
 
 Before departing for Naples, I coidd not get off from 
 another public reading of my '' Iphigcnia.'' Madam Angelica 
 and llofi-ath Reiff'enstein were the auditory, and even Signor 
 Zucchi had solicited to be present, because it was the wish of 
 his spouse. While it was reading, however, he worked away 
 at a great architcctm-al plan — for he is very skilful in executing 
 draA^dngs of this kind, and especially the decorative parts. He 
 went with Clerisseau to Dalmatia, and was the associate of all his 
 labours, drawing the buildings and ruins for the plates, which 
 the latter published. In this occupation he learned so much 
 of perspective and effect, that in his old days he is able to 
 amuse himself on paper in a very rational manner. 
 
 The tender soul of Angelica listened to the piece with in- 
 credible profoundness of sympathy. She promised me a 
 drawing of one of the scenes, which I am to keep in re- 
 membrance of her. And now. just as I am about to quit 
 Rome, I begin to feel myself tenderly attached to these kind- 
 hearted people. It is a source of mingled feelings of pleasure 
 and regret to know that people are sorry to part with you. 
 
 Rome, Feb. 10, 1787. 
 
 The safe arrival of" Iphigenia" has been announced to me 
 
 in a most cheering and agreeable M^ay. On my way to the 
 
 Opera, a letter from a well-known hand was brought to mc, 
 
 — this time doubly welcome, since it was sealed with the
 
 KOME '• irHIGEXlA "" " XASSO." o97 
 
 " Lion" a premonitory token of the safe an-ival of my 
 packet. I hurried into the Opera-house, and bustled to get 
 a place among the strange faces beneath the great chandelier. 
 At this moment I felt myself drawn so close to my friends, 
 that I could almost have sjirung forward to embrace them. 
 From my heart I thank you even for having simply mentioned 
 the arrival of the "Iphigenia," may yom- next be accom- 
 panied with a few kind words of approval. 
 
 Inclosed is the list of those among whom I v/ish the copies 
 which I am to expect from Goschc to be distributed; for 
 although it is with me a perfect matter of indifference how 
 the public may receive these matters, still I hope by them 
 to furnish slight gi-atification to my friends at least. 
 
 One undertakes too much. When I tliink on my last fo\u* 
 volumes together, I become almost giddy — I am obliged to 
 think of them separately, and then the fit passes off. 
 
 I should pei'haps have done better had I kept my first 
 resolution to send tlieso things one by one into the world, and 
 so undertake with fresh vigour and courage the new subjects 
 M'hich have most recently awakened iny sympathy. Should 
 I not, perhaps, do better were I to write the " I])higenia at 
 Delphi," instead of amusing myself with my fanciful sketches 
 of"Tasso." However, I have bestowed upon the latter too 
 much of my thoughts to give it up, and let it fall to the 
 ground. 
 
 I am sitting in the ante-room near the chimney, and the 
 Avarmth of a fire, for once wcAl fed, gives me courage to com- 
 mence a fresh sheet, for it is indeed a glorious thing to be 
 able, with our newest thoughts, to reach into the distance, 
 and by words to convey thither an idea of one's immediate 
 state and circumstances. The weather is right glorious, the 
 days are sensibly lengthening, the laurels and box are in 
 blossom, as also are the almond-trees. Early this morning I 
 was delighted with a strange sight; I saw in the distance tall, 
 pole-like trees, covered over and over with the loveliest 
 violet flowers. On a closer examination I found it was the 
 plant known in our hothouses as the Judas-tree, and to bota- 
 nists as the " cercis siliquasfrtan.'' Its papilionaceous violet 
 Wossoms are produced directly from out of the stem. The 
 stakes which I saw had been lopped last winter, and out of 
 their bark well-shaped and deeply-tinted flowers were bursting
 
 398 LETTERS FR05I ITALY. 
 
 by thousands. The daisies are also springing out of the ground 
 as thick as ants ; the crocus and the pheasant's eye are more 
 rare, but even on this account more rich and ornamental. 
 
 What pleasures and what lessons will not the more southern 
 land impai-t to me, and what new results will arise to me 
 from them ! With the things of nature it is as with those of 
 art ; much as is written about them, every one who sees them 
 forms them into new combinations for himself. 
 
 When I think of Naples, and indeed of Sicily, — when I 
 read their history, or look at views of them, it strikes me as 
 singular that it should be even in these paradises of the world 
 that the volcanic momitains manifest themselves so violently, 
 for thousands of years alarming and confounding their inha- 
 bitants. 
 
 But I vrillingly drive out of my head the expectation of 
 these much-prized scenes, in order that they may not lessen 
 my c-f\joyment of the capital of the whole world before I 
 leave it. 
 
 For the last fourteen days I have been moving about from 
 morning to night ; I am raking up everything I have not yet 
 seen. I am also viewing for a second or even a third time all 
 the most important objects, and they are all arranging them- 
 selves in tolerable order Avithin my mind : for while the 
 chief objects are taking their right places, there is space and 
 room between them for many a less important one. My 
 enthusiasm is purifying itself, and becoming more decided, 
 and now at last my mind can rise to the height of the 
 greatest and pm-est creations of art with calm admu'ation. 
 
 In my situation one is tempted to envy the artist who, by 
 copies and imitations of some kind or other can, as it were, 
 come near to those great conceptions, and can grasp them 
 better than one who merely looks at and reflects upon them. 
 In the end, however, eveiy one feels he must do his best ; and 
 so I set all the sails of my intellect, in the hope of getting 
 round this coast. 
 
 The stove is at present thoroughly warm, and piled up with 
 excellent coals, which is seldom the case with us, as no one 
 scarcely has time or inclination to attend to the fire two 
 whole hours together; I will therefore avail myself of this 
 agreeable temperature to rescue from my tablets a few notes 
 which are almost obliterated.
 
 ' KOME TASSO'S BUKIAL-rLACE. 399 
 
 On the 2nd of February "vve attended tlie ceremony of 
 blessing the tapers in the Sistine chapel. I was in anything 
 but a good humour, and shortly went off again with my 
 friends ; for I thought to myself those are the very candles 
 which, for these three hvindi'ed years, have been dimming 
 those noble paintings, and it is their smoke which, with priestly 
 impudence, not merely hangs in clouds around the only sun 
 of art, but from year to year obscures it more and more, and 
 ^Yill at last envelop it in total darkness. 
 
 We therefore sought the free air, and after a long walk 
 came upon S. Onofrio's, in a corner of which Tasso is buried. 
 In the library of the monastery there is a bust of him, the 
 face is of wax, and I please myself with fancying that it was 
 taken after death : although the lines have lost some of their 
 sharpness, and it is in soiiie parts injured, still on the whole 
 it serves better than any other I have yet seen to convey an 
 idea of a talented, sensitive, and refined but reserved character. 
 
 So much for this time. I must now turn to glorious 
 Volckmanns 2nd part, which contains Rome, and which I 
 have not yet seen. Before I start for Naples, the harvest 
 must be housed; good days are coming for binding the 
 sheaves. 
 
 Piome, Feb. 17, 1787. 
 The weather is incredibly .and inexpressibly beautiful ; for 
 the whole of February, with the exception of four rainy days, 
 a pure bright sky, and the days towards noon almost too warm. 
 One is tempted out into the open air, and if till lately one 
 spent all one's time in the city among gods and heroes, the 
 coimtry has now aU at once resumed its rights, and one can 
 scarcely tear oneself from the siuTounding scenes, lit up as 
 they are with the most glorious days. Many a time does the 
 remembrance come across me how our northern artists labour 
 to gain a charm from thatched roofs and ruined towers — 
 how they turn round and round every bush and bom-ne. and 
 crumbling rock, in the hope of catching some picturesque 
 effect ; and I have been quite surprised at myself, when I find 
 these things from habit still retaining a liold upon me. Bo 
 this as it may, however, within these last fourteen days I 
 have plucked up a little courage, and, sketch-book in hand, 
 have wandered up and do\\Ti the hollows and heights of the
 
 400 XETXEKS FKOJI ITALY. 
 
 ueighbourini? villas, aud, without much consideration, have 
 sketched ofi' a few little objects characteristically southern 
 and Roman, and am now trying (if good luck will come to 
 my aid) to give them the requisite lights and shades. 
 
 It is a singular fact, that it is easy enough to clearly see 
 aud to acknowledge what is good and tlie excellent, but that 
 when one attempts to make thenr one's own, and to grasj^ 
 them, somehow or other they slip away, as it were, from 
 ijetwccn one's lingers ; and m'C apprehend them, not by the 
 standard of the true and right, but in accordance with our 
 previous liabits of thought and tastes. It is only by constant 
 practice that we can hope to improve ; but Mhere am I to find 
 time and a collection of models r Still I do feel myself a 
 little improved by the sincere and earnest efforts of the last 
 fourteen days. 
 
 The artists arc ready enough -VA-ith their hints and instruc- 
 tions, for I am quick in apprehending them. But then the 
 lesson so quickly learnt and miderstood, is not so easily put 
 in practice. To apprehend quickly is, forsooth, the attribute 
 of the mind, but coirectly to execute that, requii'cs the in"ac- 
 tice of a life. 
 
 Aud yet tlio amateur, ho\i-e"s"or weak may be his efiPorts at 
 imitation, need not be discouraged. The few lines which I 
 scratch upon the paper often hastily, seldom correctly facilitate 
 any conception of sensible objects ; for one advances to an idea 
 more surely and more steadily the more accurately and pre- 
 cisely he considers individual objects. 
 
 Only it will net do to measure oneself ■\\'ith artists ; every 
 one must go on in his o-mi style. For Nature has made pro- 
 vision for all her children ; the meanest is not hindered in its 
 existence even by that of the most excellent. " A little man 
 is still a man;" aud Avith this remark, wc will let the matter 
 drop. 
 
 I have seen the sea twice — first the Adriatic, then the 
 Mediterranean, but only just to look at it. In Najiles we 
 hope to become better acquainted with it. All within me 
 seems suddenly to urge me on : why not sooner — why not 
 at a less sacrifice ? How many thousand things, many quite 
 new and for the first time, should I not have had to comnm- 
 nicate !
 
 -ROME — fi'ALiAX SKIES. 401 
 
 Borne, Feb. 17, 1787. 
 Eveniuf/, after the follies of the Carnival. 
 
 I am sorry to go away and leave Moritz alone ; he is going 
 on well, but when lie is left to himself, he immediately shuts 
 himself up and is lost to the world. I have therefore exhorted 
 him to write to Herder : the letter is enclosed. I should vnsh fov 
 an answer, which may be serviceable and helpful to him. 
 He is a strange good fellow ; he would have been far more bLi. 
 had he occasionally met with a friend, sensible and affec- 
 tionate enough to enlighten him as to his true state. At 
 present he could not form an acquaintance likely to be more 
 blessed to him than Herder's, if permitted frequently to write 
 to him. He is at this moment engaged on a very laudable 
 antiquarian attempt, which avcU deserves to be encouraged : 
 Friend Herder coidd scarcely bestow his cares better nor 
 sow his good adAdce in a more grateful soil. 
 
 The great portrait of myself which Tischbcin has taken in 
 hand begins already to stand out from the canvass. The 
 painter lias employed a clever statuary to make him a little 
 model in clay, which is elegantly draperied Avith the mantle : 
 with this he is working away diligently, for it must, he 
 says, be brought to a certain point before we set out for 
 Naples, and it takes rio little time merely to cover so large a 
 field of canvass with colours. 
 
 Rome, Feb. 19, 1787. 
 
 The weather continues to be finer than words can express. 
 This has been a day miserably wasted among fools. At night- 
 fall I betook myself to the Villa Medici. A new moon has 
 just shone upon us, and below the slender crescent I could 
 with the naked eye discern almost the whole of the diirk disc 
 through the perspective. Over the earth hangs that haze of 
 the day which the paintings of Claude have rendered so well 
 known. In Nature, however, the phenomenon is perhaps no- 
 where so beautiful as it is here. Flowers are now springing 
 out of the earth, and the trees putting forth blossoms which 
 hitherto I have been unacquainted with ; tlie almonds are in 
 blossom, and between the dai-k-green oaks tlicy make an appear- 
 ance as beautiful as it is new to me. Tlie sky is like a bright 
 blue taffeta in the sunshine ; what will it be in Naples ? 
 Almost cvervthing here is alrcadv green. My botanical 
 
 Vol. it. ' 2 n '
 
 402 LilTTEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 whiir.s gain food and strength from all around ; and I am on 
 the way to discover new and bcautifid relations by means of 
 which Nature — that vast prodigy, which yet is nowhere 
 visible — evolves the most manifold varieties out of the most 
 simple. 
 
 Vesuvius is throwing out both ashes and stones ; in the 
 evening its summit appears to glow. May travailing Nature 
 only favour us with a stream of lava. I can scarcely endure to 
 wait till it shall be really my lot to witness such grand 
 
 phenomena. 
 
 Rome, Feb 21. 1787. 
 
 Ash Wednesday. 
 
 The folly is now at an end. The eoimtless lights of yester- 
 day evening were, however, a strange spectacle. One must 
 have seen the Carnival in Rome to get entirely rid of the 
 wish to see it again. Nothing can be wi-itten of it : as a 
 subject of conversation it may be amusing enough. The 
 most impleasant feeling about it is, that real internal joy is 
 Avanting — there is a lack of money, which prevents them en- 
 joying the morsel of pleasure, which otherwise they might 
 still feel in it. The crreat are economical, and hold back ; 
 those of the middle ranks are without the means, and the 
 populace without spring or elasticity. In the last days there 
 was an incredible tumult, but no heartfelt joy. The sky, so 
 infinitely fine and clear, looked down nobh' and innocently 
 upon the mummeries. 
 
 However, as imitation is out of the question, and caimot 
 be thought of here, I send you, to amuse the children, some 
 drawings of carnival masks, and some ancient Roman cos- 
 tumes, which arc also coloured, as they may serve to supply 
 a missing chapter in the " Orbis Pictus." 
 
 Rome, FcJ). 21, 1787. 
 
 I snatch a few moments in the intervals of packing, to 
 mention some particulai's which I have hitherto omitted. 
 To-morrow we set oil' for Naples. I am already delighting 
 myself with the new scenery, which I promise myself will 
 be inexpressibly beautiful ; and hope in this paradise of nature, 
 to win fresh freedom and pleasure for the study of ancient 
 art, on my return to sober Rome. 
 
 Packing up is light work to me, since I can now do it
 
 HOME THE " XASSO." 403 
 
 ■with a merrier heart than I had some six months ago, when I had 
 to tear myself fi-om all that was most dear and precious to 
 me. Yes, it is now a full half year since ; and of the four 
 months I have spent in Rome, not a moment has been lost. 
 The boast may sound big; nevertheless, it does not say too 
 much. 
 
 That " Iphigenia" has an-ived, I know, — may, I learn at the 
 foot of Vesuvius that it has met with a hearty welcome. 
 
 That Tischbein, who possesses as glorious an eye for 
 nature as for art, is to accompany me on this journey, is 
 to me the subject of great congratulation: still, as genuine 
 Germans, we cannot throw aside all purposes and thoughts 
 of work. We have bought the best of drawing-paper, and 
 we intend to sketch away; although, in all probability, 
 the multitude, the beauty, and the splendom- of the objects, 
 will choke our good intentions. 
 
 One conquest I have gained over myscK Of all my un- 
 finished poetical works I shall take with me none but the 
 "Tasso," of which I have the best hopes. If I could only know 
 what you arc now saying to "• Iphigenia,'' youi* remarks might 
 bo some guide to me in my present laboiu'S ; for the plan of 
 "Tasso" is very similar ; the subject still more confined, and 
 in its several parts wiU be even stiU more elaborately finished. 
 Still I cannot toll as yet what it wiU eventually prove. ^Vhat 
 already exists of it must be destroyed ; it is, perhaps, somewhat 
 tediously draw^^ out, and neither the characters nor the plot, nor' 
 the tone of it, are at all in harmony with my present views. 
 
 In m-aking a clearance I have fallen upon some of yom* 
 letters, and in reading them over I have just Lighted upon a 
 reproach, that iu my letters I contradict myself. It may be so, 
 but I was not aware of it ; for as soon as I have written a 
 letter I immediately send it off: I must, however, confess 
 that nothing seems to me more Hlicly, for I have lately been 
 tossed about by mighty spirits, and therefore it is quite 
 natural if at times I knovv^ not where I am standinor. 
 
 A story is told of a skipper, who, overtaken at sea by a 
 stonny night, determiued to steer for port. His little boy, 
 who in the dark was crouching by him, asked him, "• What 
 silly light is that which I see — at one time above us and at 
 another below us?" His father promised to explain it to him 
 some other day; and then he told him that it was the be'acoa 
 
 2d 2
 
 •404 LETTEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 oi the iightlioiise, which, to the eye now raised, now depressed, 
 by the wild waves, appeared accordingly sometimes above > 
 ;md sometimes below. I too am steering- on a passion-tossed ' 
 .sea for the harbour, and if I can only manage to hold steadily 
 in my eye the gleam of the beacon, however it may seem to j I 
 change its place, I shall at last enjoy the wished for shore. ' I 
 
 when one is on the eve of a departure, every earlier separa- 
 tion, iind also that last one of all, and which is yet to be, comes 
 involuntarily into one's thoughts ; and so, on this occasion, the 
 reflection enforces itself on my mind more strongly than ever, 
 that man is always making far too great and too many prepa- 
 rations for life. For wc, for instance — Tischbein and I, that is 
 — must soon turn our backs upon many a precious and glorious 
 object, and even upon our well-furnished museum. In it thei*e 
 arc now standing three gems for comparison, tide by side, and 
 yet Ave part from them as though tlicy were not. 
 
 NAPLES. 
 
 Velleiri, Feb. 22, 1787. 
 
 We arrived here in good time. The day before yesterday 
 the weather became gloomy; and oiu* fine days were overcast: 
 still some signs of the air seemed to promise that it Avould 
 soon clear up again, and so indeed it turned out. Tac clouds 
 ' gradually broke, here and there appeared the blue sky, and 
 at last the sun shone full on om* journey. We came through 
 Albano, after having stopped before Genzano, at the entrance 
 of a park, which the owner, Prince Chigi, in a very strange 
 way holds, but does not keep up, on which accoinit he will 
 HOD allow any one to enter it. In it a true wilderness has 
 been fonned. Trees and shrubs, plants and weeds grow, 
 Avither. fall, and rot at pleasure. That is all right, and 
 indeed coidd not be better. The expanse before the entrance is 
 inexpressibly fine. A high wall encloses the A'alley, a lattice- 
 gate affords a \'ww into it ; then the hill ascends, upon Avhich, 
 above you, stands the castle. 
 
 But noAV I dare not attempt to go on Avith the description ; 
 and I can merely say, that at the \"ery moment Avhen from 
 tlie summit Ave caught sight of the mountains of Sezza, the 
 J^ontine IMarshcs, the sea and its islands, a IicaAy passing
 
 YELLETKI A TRICK. UPON TRAVELLEES. 405 
 
 phower was traversing the Marshes towards the sea. and 
 the light and shade, constantly changing luad moving, won- 
 derfully enlivened and variegated the dreary plain. Tho 
 I'fFect was beautifully heightened by the sun's beams which 
 lit up with various hues, the columns of smoke as they ascended, 
 from scattered and scarcely visible cottages. 
 
 Velletri is agreeably situated on a volcanic hill, which, 
 towards the north alone, is connected with other hills, and 
 towards three points of the heavens commands a wide and 
 iminterrupted prospect. 
 
 We here visited the Cabinet of the Cavalierc Borgia, who, 
 f.ivoured by his relationship with the Cardinal has managed, 
 by means of the Propaganda, to collect some valuable antiqui- 
 ties and other curiosities. Egyptian charms, idols cut out 
 of the very hardest rock, some small figures in metal, of 
 earlier or later dates, some pieces of statuary of burnt clay, 
 with figures in low relief, which were dug up in the neigh- 
 bourhood, and on the authority of which one is almost 
 tempted to ascribe to the ancient indigenous population a 
 style of their own in art. 
 
 Of other kinds of varieties there are numerous specimens 
 in this museum. I noticed two Chinese black-painted boxes; 
 on the sides of one there was delineated the whole manage- 
 ment of the silk-worm, and on the other the cultivation of 
 rice : both subjects were very nicely conceived, and worked out 
 with the utmost minuteness. Both the boxes and their covers 
 are eminently beautiful, and, as well as the book in the 
 library of the Propaganda, whieli I have already praised, are 
 well worth seeing. 
 
 It is certainly inexplicable that these ti-easures should be 
 within so short a distance of Rome, and yet should not be 
 more frequently visited ; but perhaps the difficulty and incon- 
 venience of getting to these regions, and the attraction of the 
 magic circle of Rome, may serve to excuse tho fact. As we 
 arrived at the inn, some women, who were sitting before the 
 doors of their ho\ises, called out to us, and asked if we 
 wished to buy any antiquities; and then, as we showed a 
 pretty strong hankering after them, they brought out some 
 old kettles, fire-tongs, and such lilce utensils, and were ready 
 to die Avith laughing at having made fools of us. When wo 
 seemed a little put out, oui- guide assured us, to our comfort.
 
 406 XETTERS FSOM: ITALY. 
 
 that it was a ciistomaiy joke, and that ail strangers had to 
 submit to it. 
 
 I am writinji^ this in a very miserable auberge, and feci 
 neither strength nor humour to make it any longer : therefore 
 I must bid you a very good night. 
 
 Fondi, Feb. 23, 1787. 
 
 We were on the road very early, — ^by three in the morning. 
 As the day broke we found ourselves on the Pontine Marshes, 
 which have not by any means so ill an appearance as the 
 common description in Rome would make out. Of coui'se, bv 
 merely once passing over the marshes, it is not possible to 
 judge of so great an undertaking as that of the intended 
 draining of them, which necessarily requires time to test its 
 merits ; still it does appear to me, that the works which have 
 commenced by the Pope's orders, will, to a gi-eat extent at 
 least, attain the desired end. Conceive to yom-self a mde valley, 
 v,'hich, as it stretches from north to south, has bvit a very slight 
 fall, but which towards the east and the mountains is extremely 
 low, but rises again considerably towards the sea on the west. 
 Running in a straight line through the whole length of it, 
 the ancient Via Appia has been restored. On the right of 
 the latter the principal drain has been cut, and in it the water 
 flows with a rapid fall. By means of it the tract of land to 
 the right has been drained, and is now profitably cultivated. 
 As far as the eye can see, it is cither already brought into 
 cultivation or evidently might be so, if fanners could be 
 found to take it, with the exception of one spot, which lies 
 extremely low. 
 
 The left eide, Avhieu stretches towards the moimtains, is 
 more difficult to be managed. Here, however, cross-drains pass 
 under the raised way into the chief di'ain ; as, however, the 
 surface sinks again towards the moimtains, it is impossible 
 by this means to carry off the water entirely. To meet this 
 difficulty it is proposed, I was told, to cut another leading 
 drain along the foot of the moimtains. Large patches, espe- 
 cially towards Tcn-acina, are thinly planted with willows and 
 poplars. 
 
 The posting stations consist merely of long thatched sheds. 
 Tischbein sketched one of them, and enjoyed for his reward a 
 gratification which only he could enjoy. A white horse having
 
 THE PONTINE IHARSHES. 407 
 
 broke loose had fled to the di-ained lands. Enjoj-Ing its liberty, 
 it was galloping backwards and forwards on the brown turf 
 like a flash of hghtning ; in truth it was a glorious sight, 
 rendered significant by Tischbein's rapture. 
 
 At the point where the ancient village of Meza once stood, 
 the Pope has caused to be built a large and fine building, which 
 indicates the centre of the level. The sight of it increases one's 
 hopes and confidence of the success of the whole undertaldng. 
 While thus we travelled on, we kept up a lively conversation to- 
 gether, not forgetting the warning, that on this journey one 
 must not go to sleep ; and, in fact, we were strongly enough 
 reminded of the danger of the atmosphere, by the blue 
 vapour which, even in this season of the year, hangs above the 
 ground. On this account the more delightful, as it was the 
 more longed for, was the rocky site of Terracina ; and scarcely 
 had we congratulated ourselves at the sight of it, than we 
 caught a \'iew of the sea beyond. Immediately afterwards the 
 other side of the niouutnin city presented to our eye a vege- 
 tation quite new to us. The Indian figs were pushing their 
 large fleshy leaves amidst the gray green of dvrarf myrtles, 
 the yellowish green of the pomegranate, and the pale green 
 of the olive. As we passed along, we noticed both flowers 
 and shrubs quite new to ns. On the meadows the narcissus 
 and the adonis were in flower. For a long time the sea was 
 on our right, while close to us on the left ran an unbroken 
 range of limestone rocks. It is a continuation of the Apen- 
 nines, which runs down from Tivoli and touches the sea, 
 which it docs not leave again till you reach the Campagna di 
 Romana, where it is succeeded by the volcanic formations of 
 Freseati, Alba, and VcUetri, and lastly by the Pontine 
 Marshes. Monte Circello. with the opposite promontory of 
 Terracina, where the Pontine INIarshes terminate, in- aU pro- 
 bability consists also of a system of chalk rocks. 
 
 We left the sea coast, and soon reached the charming plain 
 of Fondi. Every one must aduui-e this little sj)ot of fertile 
 and well cultivated land, enclosed with hills, which them- 
 selves are by no means wUd. Oranges, in great numbers, are 
 stiU hanging on the trees ; the crops, all of wheat, are beau- 
 tifully green ; oKvcs are growing in the fields, and the little 
 city is in the bottom. A palm tree, which stood out a marked 
 object in the scenery, received om* greetings. So much for
 
 408 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 tills evening. Pardon the scrawl. I must write without 
 thinking, for \\Titing sake. The objects are too niimerous, 
 my resting place too wretched, and yet my desire to commit 
 something to paper too great. With nightfall we reached 
 tliis place, and it is now time to go to rest. 
 
 S. Agata, Feb. 24, 1787. 
 
 Althougn in a ^\Tetchedly cold chamber, I must yet tiy and 
 give you some accomit of a beautiful day. It was ah-eady 
 nearly light when we drove out of Fondi, and we were forth- 
 Avith greeted by the orange trees which hang over the walls 
 on both .>!;idcs of our road. The trees are loaded with such 
 luinibers as can only be imagined and not expressed. Towards 
 the top the yoimg leaf is yellowish, but below and in the 
 middle, of sappy green. Mignon was quite right to long 
 for them. 
 
 After this we travelled through clean and well-worked fields 
 of Avheat, planted at convenient distances with olive-ti-ees. 
 A soft breeze was moving, and brought to the light the silvery 
 imder-sm-face of the leaves, as the branches swayed gently 
 and elegantly. It was a giay morning ; a north wind pro- 
 mised soon to dispel all the clouds. 
 
 Then the road entered a valley between stony but weU- 
 dressed fields; the crops oi" the most beautiful green. At cer- 
 tain spots one sa\s- some roomy ]ilaccs, paved, and smTounded 
 with low walls ; on these the corn, which is never carried home 
 in sheaves, is thrashed out at once. 1'he -sailey gradually 
 narrows, and the road becomes mountainous, bare rocks of 
 limestone standing on both sides of us. A violent storm 
 followed' us. Avith a fall of sleet. \a hich thawed very slowly. 
 
 The Malls, of an ancient stjde, built after the pattern 
 of net- work, charmed us exceedingly. On the heights 
 the soil is rocky, but nevertheless planted with olive-trees 
 wherever there is the smallest patch of soil to receive tliem. 
 Next we drove over a plain covered with olive-trees, and then 
 through a small toun. We here noticed altars, ancient tomb- 
 stones, and fragments of cs'cry kind built up in the walls of 
 the pleasme-houses in the gardens. Then the lower stories 
 of ancient villas, once excellently built, but novr fdlcd up
 
 s. \GkrA. 409 
 
 %vitli earth, and overgroAvii with olives. At last we cauglit 
 a sight of Vesuvius, Avith a cloud of smoke resting on its 
 brow. 
 
 Molo di Gaeta greeted us again with the richest of orange- 
 trees; we remained there some hours. The creek before the 
 town, which the tide flows up to, affords one the finest 
 of views. Following the line of coast, on the right, tiU the eye 
 reaches at last the horn of the crescent, one sees at a mode- 
 rate distance the fortress of Gi'ieta on the rocks. The left 
 horn stretches out still further, presenting to the beholder 
 first of all a line of moimtains, then Vesuvius, and, beyond 
 all, the islands. Ischia lies before you nearly in the centre. 
 
 On the shore here I fcnmd, for the first time in my life, a 
 starfish, and an echinus tlirown up by the sea ; a beautiful 
 green leaf, {tethys foliacca), smooth as the finest bath paper, 
 and other remarkable rubble-stones, the most common being 
 limestone, but cccasifjnally also serpentine, jasper, quartz, 
 gTanitc, breccian pebbles, porphyry, marble of diiferent 
 kinds, and glass of a blue and green colom*. The two last- 
 mentioned specimens are scarcely productions of the neigh- 
 bourhood. They are probably the debris of ancient buildings ; 
 and thus \ve have seen the waves before our eyes playing with 
 the splendours of the ancient world, ^^'e tarried awhile, and 
 pleased ourselves with meditating on the liature of man, whose 
 hopes. Avhether in the civilized or savage state, are so soon 
 disappointed. 
 
 Departing from -\Iolo, a beautiful prospect still accompa- 
 nies the traveller, even after his quitting the sea ; the last 
 glimpse of it was a lovely bay, of which we took a sketch. We 
 now came upon a good fruit country, with hedges of aloes. 
 We noticed an a(}ucduct which ran from the mountains over 
 some nameless and orderless masses of ruins. 
 
 Next comes the feriy over the Garigliano ; after crossing it 
 one passes through tolerably fruitful districts, till we reach 
 the mountains. Nothing striking. At length, the first hill of 
 lava. Here begins an extensive and glorious district of hill 
 and vale, over which the snowy summits arc^ towering in the 
 distance. On the uearest eminence lies a long towii. ^hich 
 .strikes the eye with an agreeable effect. In the valley lies 
 8. Agata, a considerable inn, where a cheerful fire wa.s 
 bm'ning in a chimney arranged as a cabinet ; however, our
 
 410 lEITEBS FROM ITALY. 
 
 Toom is cold — ^no wiudow, only shutters, whicli I am just 
 hasteniug to close. 
 
 Naples, Feb. 25, 1787. 
 
 And here we are happily arrived at last, and with good 
 omens enough. Of our day's journey thus much only. We 
 left S. Agata with sunrise, a violent north-east wind blow- 
 ing on our backs, which continued the whole day through. 
 It was not till noon that it was master of the clouds. We 
 suffered much from the cold. 
 
 Our road again lay among and over volcanic hills, among 
 which I did not notice many limestone rocks. At last wo 
 reached the plains of Capua, and shortly afterwards Capua 
 itself, where we halted at noon. In the afternoon a beautiful 
 but flat region lay stretched before us ; the road is broad, 
 and runs through fields of green com, so even that it looked 
 like a carpet, and was at least a span high. Along the fields 
 are planted rows of poplars, from which the branches are 
 lopped to a great height, that the vines may run up them ; 
 this is the case all the way to Naples. The soil is excellent, 
 light, loose, and well worked. The vine stocks are of extra- 
 ordinary strength and height, and their shoots hang in festoons 
 like nets from tree to tree. 
 
 Vesuvius was aU the while on our left with a strong smoke, 
 and I felt a quiet joy to think that at last I beheld with my 
 own eyes this most remarkable object. The sky became 
 clearer and clearer, and at length the sun shone quite hot into 
 our narrow rolling lodging. The atmosphere was perfectly 
 clear and bright as we approached Naples, and we now found 
 om-selvcs, in truth, in quite another world. Tlie houses, 
 with flat roofs, at once bespeak a different climate ; inwardly, 
 perhaps, they may not be veiy comfortable. Every one is 
 in the streets, or sitting in the sun as long as it shines. The 
 NeapoHtan beheves himself to be in possession of Paradise, 
 and entertains a very melancholy opinion of our northern 
 lands. Sempre neve, caso di legno, gran ignorunza. ma 
 danari assai. Such is the pictiu'e they draw of om' condition. 
 Interpreted for the benefit of all our German folk, it means — 
 Always snow, wooden houses, great ignorance, but money 
 enough.
 
 NAPiES MT lODGlNGS. 411 
 
 Naples at first sight leaves a free, cheerful, and lively 
 impression ; numberless beings are passing and repassing 
 each other : the king is gone hunting, the queen promising ; 
 and so things could not be better. 
 
 Naples, Moiiday, Feb. 26, 1787. 
 
 " Alia Locanda del Sgr. Moriconi al Largo del Castello." 
 Under this addi-ess, no less cheerful than high-sounding, 
 letters from all the four quarters of heaven will henceforth 
 find us. Round the castle, which lies by the sea, there 
 stretches a large open space, which, althougli surrounded on 
 aU sides with houses, is not called a square or piazza, but a 
 largo, or expanse. Perhaps the name is derived from 
 ancient times, when it was still an open and unenclosed 
 countr}^ Here, in a comer house on one side of the Largo, 
 we have taken up our lodgings in a corner room, which 
 commands a free and lively view of the ever moving surface. 
 An iron balcony rims before several windows, and even round 
 the comer. One vroidd never leave it, if the sharp -wind 
 were not extremely cutting. 
 
 The room is cheerfully decorated, especially the ccilin"-, 
 whose arabasqucs of a hundred compartments bear witness to 
 the proximity of Pompeii and Hercuianeum. Now, all this is 
 very avcU and veiy fine ; but there is no fire-place, no 
 chimney, and yet February exercises even here its rights. 
 I expressed a wish for something to warm me. They brought 
 iu a tripod of sufficient height from the ground for one con- 
 veniently to hold one's hands over it ; on it was placed a 
 shallow brazier, full of extremely fine charcoal red-hot, but 
 covered smoothly over with ashes. We now found it an 
 advantage to be able to manage this process of domestic 
 economy ; we had learned that at Rome. "With the ring of 
 a key, from time to time, one cautiously cfraws away the 
 ashes of Ihe surface, so that a few of the embers may be ex- 
 posed to the fi-ee air. Were you impatiently to stir up the 
 glowing coals, you would no doubt experience for a few 
 moments great warmth, but you would in a short time exhausi. 
 the friel, and then you must pay a certain sum to have tha 
 brasier filled again.
 
 412 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 I did not feel quite well, and could have wished for more 
 of case and comfort. A reed matting was all there was to 
 protect one's feet from the stone floor ; skins are not 
 usual. I determined to put on a sailor's cloak which we had 
 brought witli us in fim, and it did me good service, especially 
 when I tied it roimd my body with the rope of my box. I 
 must have looked verj'^ comical, something between a sailor 
 and a capuchin. When Tischbein came back from %asiting 
 somo of his friends, and found me in this dress, he could not 
 refrain from laughing. 
 
 Naples, Feb. 27, 1787. 
 Yesterday I kept quietly at home, in order to get rid of a 
 slight bodily ailment. To-day has been a regular cai-ousc. 
 and the time passed rapidly while we visited the most 
 glorious of objects. Let man talk, describe and })aint as he 
 may — to be here is more than all. The shore, the creeks, and 
 the bay, Vesuvius, the city, the suburbs, the castles, the 
 atmosphere I In the evening, too, we went into the Grotto 
 of Posilippo, while tlic setting smi was shining into it from 
 the other side. I can pardon all who lose their senses in 
 Naples, and remember with emotion my lather, who retained 
 to the last an indelible impression of those objects which 
 to-day I have cast eyes upon for the first time. Just as it is 
 said, that people who have once seen a ghost, are never after- 
 Avards seen to smile, so in the opposite sense it may be said 
 of him. that he never could become perfectly miserable, so 
 long as he remembered Naples. According to my fashion, 
 I am quite stiU and calm, and "^^"hen anything happens too 
 absurcl, onlv make large — large eves. 
 
 Naples, I'ch. 28, 1787. 
 To-day we visited I'hilip ITackort, the famous landscape- 
 painter, who enjoys the special confidence and jDcculiar favour 
 of the king and the queen. A wing of the palace Franca 
 Villa has been assigned to him. which, having furnished it 
 with true artistic taste, he feels great satisfaction in in- 
 habiting. He is a very precise and prudent personage, 
 who. witli imtiring industry, manages, ncA'crthelcss, to enjoy
 
 NAPLES THE PKIXCE YON WALDECK. 413 
 
 After that we took a sail, and saw all lands of fish and 
 wonderful shapes drawn out of the waves. The day was 
 glorious; the tramontane (north wmds) tolerable. 
 
 Naples, March 1, 1787. 
 
 Even in Rome my self-willed hermit-like humour was 
 forced to assume a more social aspect than I altogether liked : 
 no doubt it appears a strange beginning to go into the 
 world in order to be alone. Accordingly I eoukl not resist 
 Prince von Waldeck, who most kindly invited me, and by 
 his rank and influence has procured me the enjoyment of 
 many privileges. We had scarcely reached Naples, where 
 he has been residing a long while, when he sent us an invita- 
 tion to pay a visit with him to Puzzuoli and the neighbourhood. 
 I was thinking already of Vesuvius for to-day; but Tischbciu 
 has forced me to take this journey, which, agreeable enough 
 of itself, promises from the fine weather, and the society of 
 a perfect gentleman, and well-educated prince, very much 
 both of pleasure and profit. We had also seen in Home a 
 beautiful lady, who with her husband, is inseparable from the 
 Prince. She also is to be of the part}' ; and wc hope for a 
 most delightful day. 
 
 Moreover, I was intimately known to tliis noble society, 
 having met them previously. The Prince, upon our first 
 acquaintance, had asked me what I was then busy with ; and 
 the plan of my " Iphigenia ' ' was so fresh in my recollection, that 
 I was able one evening to relate it to tlieni circumstantially. 
 They entered into it ; still, still I fancied I could observe that 
 something livelier and wilder was expected of me. 
 
 Evening. 
 
 It would be difficult to give an account of this day. How 
 often has the cursory reading of a book, A^•hich irresistibly 
 carries one with it, exercised the greatest influence on a inan's 
 whole life, and produced at once a decisive effect, which neither 
 a second perusal nor earnest reflection can cither strengthen 
 or modify. Tliis I experienced in tlie case of the " Sakuntala" ; 
 and do not great men affect us somewhat in the same way r A 
 sail to Puzzuoli, little trips by land, cheerful walks through 
 the most wonderful regions in the world ! Beneath the purest
 
 414 XETTEKS TUOM ITAtY. 
 
 sky the most treacherous soil ; ruins of inconceivable opulence, 
 oppressive, and saddening ; boiling waters, clefts exhaling sid- 
 phur, rocks of slag defying vegetable life, bare forbidding 
 tracts, and then at last on all sides the most luxm-iant vege- 
 tation seizing every spot and cranny possible, running over 
 every lifeless object, edging the lakes and brooks, and noirr- 
 ishing a glorious wood of oak on the brinlc of an ancient 
 crater ! 
 
 And thus one is driven backwards and forwards between 
 natm*e and the history of nations ; one wishes.to meditate, and 
 soon feels himself quite unfit for it. In the mean time, how- 
 ever, the living lives on merrily, with a joyousncss which we 
 too would share. Educated persons, belonging to the world and 
 the world's ways, but warned by serious events, become, never- 
 theless, disposed for reflection. A boxmdlcss view of earth, 
 sea, and skj% — and then called away to the side of a young and 
 amiable lady, accustomed and delighted to receive homage. 
 • ximidst all this giddy excitement, however, I failed not 
 to make many notes. The future reduction of these will be 
 greatly facilitated by the maj) vre consulted on the spot, and 
 by a hasty sketch of Tisclibeiu's. To-day it is not possible for 
 me to make the least addition to these. 
 
 March 2. 
 Thui'sday I ascended Vesuvius, although the v/cather was 
 unsettled, and the summit of the mountain surrounded by 
 clouds. I took a carriage as far as Resina, and then, on the 
 back of a mule, began the ascent, having ^■ineyards on both 
 sides. Next, on foot, I crossed the lava of the year '71, on the 
 surface of which a fine but compact moss was akeady growing ; 
 then upwards on the side of the lava. The hut of the hennit 
 on the height, was on my left hand. After this we climbed the 
 Ash- hill, which is wearisome walking; two-thirds of the sum- 
 mit were enveloped in clouds. At last we reached the ancient 
 crater, now filled up, where vre found recent lava, only two 
 months and fourteen days old, and also a slight streak of only 
 five days, which was, iiowever, already cold. Passing over 
 these, we next ascended a height which had been throv.Ti up 
 by volcanic action ; it was smoking fi-om all its points. As 
 the smoke rolled away from iis, I essayed to api:)roach the 
 crater; scarcely, however, had we taken fifty steps in
 
 XAPXES VESUVIUS. 415 
 
 the steam, wlien it became so dense that I could scarcely 
 see my shoes. It was to no purpose that ^ve h^eld snuff 
 oontinually before our nostrils. My guide had disappeared ; 
 and the footing on the lava lately thrown up was verj' unsteady. 
 I therefore thought it right to tui ound, and to reserve 
 the sight for a finer day, and for less of smoke. However, I 
 now know how difficult it is to breathe in such an atmosphere. 
 
 Otherwise, the mountain was quite still. I'licre was no 
 flame, no roaring, no stones thro-mi up — all which it usually 
 does at most times. I reconnoitered it well, vvith the intention. 
 of regularly stonning it as soon as the weather shall improve. 
 
 The specimens of lava that I found, were mostly of well- 
 known kinds. I noticed, however, a phenomenon which 
 appeared to me extremely strange, which I intend to examine 
 again still more closely, and also to consult connoisseurs and 
 collectors upon it. It is a stalactite incrustation of a part of 
 the volcanic funnel, which has been thro'mi down, and now 
 rears itself in the centime of the old choked-up crater. This mass 
 of solid greyish stalactite appears to have been formed by the 
 sublimation of the voiy finest volcanic evaporation, without the 
 co-operation of cither moisture or fii-sion. It ^vill furnish 
 occasion for further thinking. 
 
 To-day, the 3rd of ]I-Iarcli, the sky is covered with clouds, 
 and a sirocco is blowing. For post-day, good weather. 
 
 A very strange medley of men, beautiful houses, and most 
 singular fishes are here to be seen in abundance. 
 
 Of the situation of the city, and of its glories, which have 
 been so often described and commended, not a word fi.-om me. 
 '• Vede Napoli e poi mtiori," is the cry here. " See Naples, 
 
 and die." 
 
 Naples, March 5, 1787. 
 
 Tliat no Neapolitan, will allow the merits of liis city to be 
 questioned, that their poets should sing in extraA'agant hyper- 
 "bole of the blessings of its site, are not matters to quarrel 
 about, even though a paix-of Vesuviuses stood in its neighbour- 
 hood. Here one can almost cast aside all remembrances, even 
 of Rome. As compaied \vith this free open situation, the 
 capital of the world, in the basin of the Tiber, looks like a 
 cloister built on a bad site. 
 
 The sea, with its vessels, and their destinations, ]n*escnts 
 wholly nev.^ matters for reflection. The frigate for Palcnno
 
 416 LEXTEllS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 started yesterday, with a strong-, direct, nortii mud. This time 
 it certainly will not be more than six-and-thirty hours on the 
 passage. With what longiuj^- did I nut watch the full sails as 
 the vessel passed between Capri and Cape Minerva, until at 
 last it disappeared. Who could see one's beloved thus saiUng 
 away and survive r The sirocco (south wind) is now blowing ; 
 if the wind becomes stronger, the bi'eakers over the jNIoIc will 
 be glorious. 
 
 'J o-day being Frida)-. is the grand promenade of tlie nobi- 
 lity, when eveiy one displays his eqiupages, and especially his 
 stud. It is (dmost impossible to see finer horses anywhert: 
 than in Naples. For the first time in my life I have felt an 
 iiiterest in these animals. 
 
 Na2}les, March 0,.1787. 
 
 Here you have a few leaves, as reporters of the enter- 
 tainment I have met with in this place ; also a corner 
 of the cover of your letter, stained with smoke, in testi- 
 nrony of its having been M-ith me on Vesuvius. You must 
 not, however, fancy, either in your waking thoughts or in 
 your dreams, that I am surrounded by perils ; be assm'cd 
 tliat where\ or I venture, there is no more danger than on the 
 road to Belvedere. The earth is everyv/here the Lord's ; raav 
 l)e well said in reference to sucli objects. I never seek 
 adventure out of a mere rage for singularity : but even ]>eeausc 
 I am most cool, and can catch at a glance, the pecidiaritics of 
 any object, I may well do and venture more than many others. 
 The passage to Sicily is anything but dangerous. A few days 
 ago, the frigate sailed for Palermo with a fiivorable breeze 
 from the north, and, leaving Capri on the right, has, no doubt, 
 accomplished the voyage in six-and-thirty lioiu-s. In all such 
 expeditions, one finds the danger to be far less in reality than, 
 at a distance, one is apt to imagine. 
 
 Of earthquakes, there is not at jjresent a vestige in Lower 
 Italy ; in the upper ]u-oviuces Ilimini and its neighbourhood 
 has lately suffered. Thus the earth has strange hmnours, and 
 people talk of earthqu:ikes here just as we do of wind and 
 weather, and as in Thuringia they talk of conflagrations. 
 
 I am delighted to find that you are now fixmiliar with the 
 two editions of my '• Iphigcnia,'" but still more pleased should I 
 be had voii been more sensible of the difference bctvreen thcav
 
 NAPLES FILANGIERI. * 417 
 
 I know what I have done for it, and may well speak thereof, 
 since I feel that I could make still further improvements. If it 
 be a bliss to enjoy the good, it is still greater happiness to dis- 
 cern the better ; for in art the best only is good enough. 
 
 Naples, March 5, 1787. 
 
 We spent the second Sunday of Lent in visiting church 
 after church. As in Rome all is highly solemn ; so here every 
 hoiir is merry and cheerful. The Neapolitan school of painting, 
 too, can only be understood in Naples. One is astonished to 
 see the whole front of a church painted from top to bottom. 
 Over the door of one, Christ is dri^■ing out of the temple the 
 buyers and sellers, who, terribly frightened, are nimbly hud- 
 dling up their wares, and hiurying down the steps on both 
 sides. In another chiu'ch, there is a room over the entrance, 
 which is richly ornamented vrith frescoes representing the 
 deprivation of Ileliodorus. -' Luca Giordano must indeed have 
 painted rapidly, to fill such large areas in a lifetime. The 
 pulpit, too, is here not always a mere cathedra, as it is in other 
 places, — a place where one only may teach at a time ; but a 
 gallery. Along one of these I once saw a Capuchin walking 
 backwards and forwards, and, now from one end, now from 
 another, reproaching the people with their sins. What had 
 he not to tell them ! 
 
 But neither to be told nor to be described is the glory of 
 a night of the full moon such as we have enjoyed here, wan- 
 dering tln-ough the streets and squares and on the quay, with 
 its long promenade, and then backwards and forwards on the 
 beach ; one felt really possessed with the feeling of the infinity 
 of space. So to dream is really worth all trouble. 
 
 Naples, March 5, 1787. 
 I made to-day the acqxuiintancc of an excellent individual, 
 and I must brieily give you a general description of him. It 
 is the Chevalier Filangieri, famous for his work on legislation. 
 He belongs to those noble young men who wisli to promote the 
 happiness and the moderate liberty of mankind. In his bearing 
 
 * Heliodorus, Bishop of Tricca, in Tliessaly, in the fourth oent\u-y, author 
 of the " CEtliiopics, or, the Amours of Theagencs and Chariclea," was, 
 it 13 said, deprived of liis bishopric for writing this worlc. — A. W.'M. 
 
 Vol. II. 2 e
 
 4.18 • XEIIEKS FKOM MAIY. 
 
 you recognise at once tlie soldier, the clievalier, and the man 
 of the world ; but this appearance is softened by an expres- 
 sion of tender moral sensibility, which is diffused over his 
 whole countenance, and shines forth most agreeably in his 
 character and conversation ; he is, moreover, heartily at- 
 tached to his sovereign and country, even though he cannot 
 approve of all that goes on. He is also oppressed with a 
 fear of Joseph II. The idea of a despot, even though it only 
 floats as a phantom in the air, excites the apprehensions of 
 every noble-minded man. He spoke to me "ndthout reserve, 
 of what Naples had to fear from him ; but in particular he 
 was delighted to speak of Montesquieu, Beccaria, and of some 
 of his own writings — all in the same spirit of the best wiU, and 
 of a heart full of youthftd enthvisiasm to do good. And yet he 
 may one day be classed -svith the Thirty. He. has also made me 
 acquainted with an old Avi-iter, from whose inexhaustible depths 
 these new Italian friends of legislation derive intense encou- 
 ragement and edification. He is called Giambattista Vico, and 
 is preferred even to Montesquieu. After a hasty perusal of his 
 book, which was lent to me as a sacred deposit. I laid it 
 down, sajdng to myself. Here ai'e sybiUine anticipations of 
 good and right, which once must, or ought to be, realised, 
 di'awn apparently fi-om a serious contemplation both of the 
 past and of the present. It is well when a nation possesses 
 such a forefather : the Germans wiR one day receive a similar 
 codex from Hamann. 
 
 Naples, March 6, 1787. 
 
 Most reluctantly, yet, for the sake of good-fellowship, Tisch- 
 bein accompanied me to-day to Vesuvius. To him — the artist 
 of form, who concerns himself with none but the most beau- 
 tiful of human and animal shapes, and one also whose taste 
 and judgment lead to humanise even the formless rock and 
 landscape, — such a frightfid and shapeless conglomeration of 
 matter, Avhich, moreover, is continually preying on itself, and 
 proclaiming war against everj^ idea of the beautiful, must have 
 appeared utterly abominable. 
 
 We started in two caleches, as we did not trust ourselves to 
 drive through the crowd and whirl of the city. The drivers kept 
 up an incessant shouting at the top of their voice whenever don- 
 keys with their loads of wood or rubbish, or rolling caleches
 
 NAPLES ASCEKT OF VESUVIUS. 419 
 
 met us, or else warning the porters with their burdens, or 
 other pedestrians, whether children or old people to get out 
 of the way. AU the while, however, they drove at a sharp 
 trot, without the least stop or check. 
 
 As you get into the remoter suburbs and gardens, the 
 road soon begins to show signs of a Plutonic action. For 
 as we had not had rain for a long time, the naturally ever- 
 green leaves were covered with a thick gray and ashy dust ; 
 so that the glorious blue sky, and the scorching sun which 
 shone down upon us, were the only signs that we were still 
 among the living. 
 
 At the foot of the steep ascent, we were received by two 
 guides, one old, the other young, but both active fellows. 
 The first pulled me up the path, the other Tischbein, — 
 pulled I say, for these guides are girded round the waist 
 with a leathern belt, which the traveller takes hold of, and 
 being drawn up by his guide, makes his way the easier with foot 
 and staff. In this manner we reached the flat fi-om which the 
 cone rises : towards the north lay the ruins of the Somma. 
 
 A glance westwards over the country beneath us, removed, 
 as well as a bath could, all feeling of exhaustion and fatigue, and 
 we now went round the ever-slnoking cone, as it threw out its 
 stones and ashes. Wherever the space allowed of our viewing 
 it at a sufficient distance, it appeared a grand and elevating 
 spectacle. In the first place, a violent thundering toned forth 
 from its deepest abyss, then stones of larger and smaller sizes 
 were showered into the air by thousands, and enveloped by clouds 
 of ashes. The greatest part fell again into the gorge ; the rest 
 of the fragments, receiving a lateral inclination, and falling on 
 the outside of the crater, made a marvellous rumbling noise. 
 First of all the larger masses plumped against the side, and 
 rebounded with a dull hea'\-y sound ; then the smaller came 
 rattling down ; and last of all, drizzled a shower of ashes. 
 AU this took place at regular intervals, which by slowly count- 
 ing, we were able to measure pretty accurately. 
 
 Between the Somma, however, and the cone the space is 
 naiTow enough ; moreover, several stones fell around us, and 
 made the circuit anything but agreeable. Tischbein now felt 
 more disgusted than ever Avith Vesuvius, as the monster, not 
 content with being hateful, showed an inclination to become 
 mischievous also. 
 
 2 E 2
 
 420 LETTERS FKOM ITALY, 
 
 As, however, the presence of clanger generally exercises on 
 man a kind of attraction, and calk forth a spirit of opposition in 
 the human breast to defy it, I bethought myself that, in the 
 interval of the eruptions, it would be possible to climb up the 
 cone to the crater, and to get back before it broke out again. 
 I held a council on this point with our guides under one of 
 the overhanging rocks of the Somma, where, encamped in 
 safety, we refreshed ourselves with the provisions we had 
 brought with us. The younger guide was willing to run the 
 risk with me ; we stuffed our hats full of linen and silk 
 handkerchiefs, and, staff in hand, we prepared to start, I 
 holding on to his gu'dle. 
 
 The little stones were yet rattling around us, and the ashes 
 still drizzling, as the stalwart youth hurried forth with me 
 across the hot glowing rubble. We soon stood on the brink 
 of the vast chasm, the smoke of which, although a gentle air 
 was bearing it away from us, unfortunately veiled the interior 
 of the crater, which smoked all round fi'om a thousand 
 crannies. At intervals, however, we caught sight through 
 the smoke of the cracked walls of the rock. The view was 
 neither instructive nor delightful ; but for the very reason 
 that one saw nothing, one lingered in the hope of catching a 
 glimpse of something more ; and so we forgot our slow 
 counting. We were standing on a narrow ridge of the vast 
 abyss : of a sudden the thunder pealed aloud ; we ducked our 
 heads invohmtarily, as if that would have rescued us from the 
 precipitated masses. The smaller stones soon rattled, and 
 without considering that we had again an interval of cessa- 
 tion before us, and only too much rejoiced to have outstood 
 the danger, we rushed down and reached the foot of the 
 hill, together Avith the drizzling ashes, which pretty thickly 
 covered our heads and shoulders. 
 
 Tischbein was heartily glad to see me again. After a 
 little scolding and a little refreshment, I was able to give my 
 especial attention to the old and new lava. And here the 
 elder of the guides was able to instruct me accurately in the 
 signs by which the age of the several strata was indicated. 
 The older were already covered with ashes, and rendered 
 quite smooth ; the newer, especially those which had cooled 
 slowly, presented a singular appearance. As, sliding along, 
 they carried away with them the solid objects which lay on
 
 NAPLES — AN ANTIQUE — A HOKSe's HEAD. 421 
 
 the surface, it necessarily happened that from time to time se- 
 veral would come into contact with each other, and these again 
 being swept still further by the molten stream, and pushed one 
 over the other, Avould eventually form a solid mass with won- 
 derful jags and corners, still more strange even than the some- 
 what similarly formed piles of the icebergs. Among this fused 
 and waste matter I found many great rocks, which, being 
 struck with a hammer, present on the broken face a jjcrfect 
 resemblance to the primeval rock formation. The guides 
 maintained that these were old lava from the lowest depths 
 of the mountain, which are very often thrown up by the 
 volcano. 
 
 Upon our return to Naples, we noticed some small houses 
 of only one story, and of a remarkable appearance and 
 singular build, without Avindows, and receiving all their 
 light from the doors, which opened on the road. The inha- 
 bitants sit before them at the door from the mornins; to the 
 night, when they at last retire to their holes. 
 
 o 
 
 The city, which in the evening is all of a tumult, tliough of 
 a different kind from the day, extorted from me the wish 
 that I might be able to stay here for some time, in order to 
 sketch to the best of my powers the moving scene. It will 
 not, however, be possible. 
 
 Naples, Wednesday, March 7, 1787. 
 This week Tischbein has shown to me, and without reserve 
 commented upon, the greater part of the artistic treasures of 
 Naples. An excellent judge and drawer of animals, he had 
 long before called my attention to a horse's head in brass in 
 the Palace Columbrano : we went there to-day. Tliis relic of 
 art is placed in the court right opposite the gatewa^y, in a 
 niche over a well, and really excites one's astonishment. 
 What must have been the effect of the whole head and body 
 together ? The perfect horse must have been far larger than 
 those at S. Mark's : moreover, the head alone, when closely 
 viewed, enables you distinctly to recognise and admire the 
 character and spirit of the animal. The splendid frontal
 
 422 LETXEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 bones, the snorting nostrils, tlie pricked ears, the stiff mane, 
 — a strong, excited, and spirited creature ! 
 
 "We tiu"ned round to notice a female statue which stands in 
 a niche over the gateway. It has been already described by 
 Winckelmann as an imitation of a dancing girl, with the 
 remark, that such artistes represent to us in living move- 
 ment, and under the greatest variety, that beauty of form 
 which the masters of statuary exhibit in the (as it were) 
 petrified nymphs and goddesses. It is very light and beau- 
 tiful ; the head, which had been broken off, has been skilfuUy 
 set on again : otherwise it is nowise injui-ed, and most assu- 
 redly deserves a better place. 
 
 Naples. 
 
 To-day I received your dear letter of the 1 6th February ; 
 only, keep on writing. I have made arrangements for the for- 
 Avarding of my letters, and I shall continue to do so, if I move 
 further. Quite strange does it seem to me to read that my 
 friends do not often see each other ; and yet perhaps nothing 
 is more common than for men not to meet who are living close 
 together. 
 
 The weather here has become dull : a change is at hand. 
 Spring is commencing, and we shall soon have some rainy 
 days. The summit of Vesuvius has not been clear since I 
 paid it a visit. These few last nights flames have been seen to 
 issue from it ; to-day it is keeping itself quiet, and therefore 
 more violent eruptions are expected. 
 
 The storms of these last few days have shown to us a 
 glorious sea ; it is at such times that the waves may be 
 studied in their Avorthiest style and shape. Natm-e, indeed, 
 is th^ only book which presents important matter on all its 
 pages. On the other hand, the theatres have ceased to fur- 
 nish any amusement. During Lent nothing but operas, 
 which differ in no respect from more profane ones but by the 
 absence of ballets between the acts ; in all other respects 
 they are as gay as possible. In the theatre of S. Carlo they 
 are representing tlie destruction of Jerusalem by Nebu- 
 chadnezzar : to me it is only a great raree-show ; my taste 
 is quite spoilt for such things. 
 
 To-day we were with the Prince von Waldeck at Capo di
 
 NAPLES. 423 
 
 Monte, where there is a great collection of paintings, coins, 
 &c. It is not weU arranged, but the things , themselves are 
 above praise : we can now correct and confirm many tradi- 
 tional ideas. Those coins, gems, and vases which, Hke the 
 stunted citron-trees, come to us in the north one hj one, 
 have quite a different look here in the mass, and, so to speak, 
 in their own home and native soil. For where works of art 
 are rare, their very rarity gives them a value ; here we leam 
 to treasm-e none but the intrinsically valuable. 
 
 A very high price is at present given for Etruscan vases, 
 and certainly beautiful and excellent pieces are to be found 
 among them. Not a traveller but wishes to possess some 
 specimen or other of them ; one does not seem to value 
 money here at the same rate as at home : I fear that I 
 myself shall yet be tempted. 
 
 Naples, Friday, March 9, 1787. 
 
 This is the pleasant part of travelling, that even ordinary 
 matters, by their novelty and unexpectedness, often acquire 
 the appearance of an adventure. As I came back from Capo di 
 Monte, 1 paid au evening visit to Filangieri, and saw sitting 
 on the sofa, by the side of the mistress of the house, a lady 
 whose external appearance seemed to agree but little with the 
 famiharity and easy manner she indulged in. In a hght, 
 striped, silk gown of very ordinaiy texture, and a most sin- 
 gular cap, by way of head-dress, but of a pretty figure, she 
 looked like some poor dressmaker who, taken up with the 
 cai'e of adorning the persons of others, had little time to 
 bestow on her own external appearance ; such people are so 
 accustomed to expect their labours to be remiuacrated, that 
 they seem to have no idea of working gratis for themselves. 
 She did not allow her gossip to be at all checked by my arrival," 
 but went on talking of a number of ridiculous adventures which 
 had happened to her that day, or v/hich had been occasioned 
 by her own hrusquerie and impetuosity. 
 
 The lady of the house wished to help me to get in a word 
 or two, and spoke of the beautiful site of Capo di IMonte, and 
 of the treasvires there. Upon this the lively lady sprang up 
 with a good high jump from the sofa, and as she stood on her 
 feet seemed still prettier than before. She took Icayc, and
 
 424 XETXERS FROM ITALT. 
 
 running to the door, said, as sbe passed me, " The Filaugieri 
 are coming one of these days to dine with me — I hope to 
 see you also." She was gone before I could say yes. I now 
 
 learnt that she was the Princess , a near relative to the 
 
 master of the house.* The Filangieri were not rich, and lived 
 in a becoming but moderate style ; and such I presumed was 
 the case with my little Princess, especially as such titles are 
 anything but rare in Naples. I set do^vn the name, and the 
 day and hour, and left them, without any doubt but that I 
 should be found at the right place in due time. 
 
 JVajjles, Simday, March 11, 1787. 
 
 As my stay in Naples cannot be long, I take the most remote 
 points first of all — the near throw themselves, as it Avere, in 
 one's vray. I have been with Tischbein to Pompeii, and on 
 our road all those glorious prospects which were already avcU 
 known to us from many a landscape drawing, lay right and 
 left, dazzling us by their number and unbroken succession. 
 
 Pompeii amazes one by its narrowness and littleness ; con- 
 fined streets, but perfectly straight, and furnished on both 
 sides with a foot pavement ; little houses without ■\-\-indows, the 
 rooms being lit only by the doors, which ojjened on the atrium 
 and the galleries. Even the public edifices, the tomb at the 
 gate, a temple, and also a villa in its neighbourhood, are like 
 models and dolls' houses, rather than real buildings. The 
 rooms, corridors, galleries and all, are painted with bright 
 and cheerful colours, the wall surfaces uniform ; in the middle 
 some elaborate painting (most of these have been removed) ; on 
 the borders and at the corners, light tasteful arabesques, 
 terminating in the pretty figm-es of nymphs or children ; while 
 in others, from out of gaiJands of flowers, beasts, wild and 
 tame, are issuing. Thus docs the city, which first of all the 
 hot shower of stones and ashes overwhelmed, and afterwards 
 the excavators plundered, still bear "witness, even in its pre- 
 sent utterly desolate state, to a taste for painting and the 
 arts common to the whole people, of which the most enthusi- 
 astic dilettante of the present day has neither idea nor feeling, 
 and so misses not. 
 
 * Filansiieri's sister.
 
 NAPLES VISIT TO POMPEII. 425 
 
 When one considers the distance of this tov/n from Vesu- 
 vius, it is clear that the volcanic matter which over-whelmed 
 it could not have been carried hither either by any sudden 
 impetus of the mountain, or by the wind. We must rather 
 suppose that these stones and ashes had been floating for a 
 time in the air, like clouds, until at last they fell upon the 
 doomed city, 
 
 In order to foi-m a clear and precise idea of this event, one 
 has only to think of a mountain village buried in snow. The 
 spaces between the houses, and indeed the crushed houses 
 themselves, were filled up ; however, it is not improbable that 
 some of the mason-work may, at different points, have peeped 
 above the surface, and in this way have excited the notice 
 of those by whom the hill was broken up for vineyards 
 and gardens. And, no doubt, many an owner, on digging 
 up his own portion, must have made valuable gleanings. Se- 
 veral rooms were found quite empty, and in the corner of one 
 a hea]) of ashes was observed, under which a quantity of 
 household articles and works of art was concealed. 
 
 The strange, and in some degree unpleasant impression 
 which this m\nnmied city leaves on the mind, we got rid 
 of, as, sitting in the arbour of a little inn close to the sea 
 (where we disjiatched a frugal meal), we revelled in the blue 
 sky, the glaring rijiple of the sea, and the bright sunshine ; and 
 cherished a hope that, when the vine-leaf should again cover 
 the hill, we might all be able to pay it a second visit, and 
 once more enjoy ourselves together on the same spot. 
 
 As we approached the city, we again came upon the little cot- 
 tages, which now appeared to us perfectly to resemble those in 
 Pompeii. We obtained permission to enter one, and found it 
 extremely clean — neatly-])latted rush-bottomed chairs, a buffet, 
 covered all over with gilding, or painted with variegated 
 flowers, and highly varnished. Thus, after so many centuries, 
 and such numberless changes, this country instils into its 
 inhabitants the same customs and habits of life, the same incli- 
 nations and tastes. 
 
 Naples, Monday, March 12, 1787. 
 To-day, according to my custom, I have gone slowly through 
 the city, noting several points, for a future description of it, 
 of which unfortunately I cannot communicate anything to-
 
 426 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY. |^ 
 
 day. All tends to this one conclusion : that a highly- favored 
 land, which furnishes in abundance the chief necessaries of 
 existence, produces men also of a happy disposition, who, with- 
 out trouble or anxiety, trust to to-morrow to bring them what 
 to-day has been wanting, and consequently live on in a light- 
 hearted careless sort of Life. Momentary gratification, moderate 
 enjoyments, a passing sorrow, and a cheerful resignation ! 
 
 The morning has been cold and damp, with a little rain. In 
 my walk I came upon a spot where the great slabs of the 
 pavement appeared swept quite clean. To my great sm-prise 
 I saw, on this smooth and even spot, a number of ragged boys 
 squatting in a circle, and spreading out their hands over the 
 ground, as if to warm them. At first I took it to be some 
 game that they were playing ; when, however, I noticed the 
 perfect seriousness and composure of their coxmtenances, "with 
 an expression on it of a gratified want, I therefore put my 
 brains to the utmost stretch, but they refused to enlighten me 
 as I desired. I was, therefore, obliged to ask what it could 
 be that had induced these little imps to take up this strange 
 position, and had collected them in so regular a circle. 
 
 Upon this I was informed that a neighboui-ing smith had 
 been heating the tire of a wheel, and that this is done in the 
 following manner : — The irontii-e is laid on the pavement, and 
 around is as much oak chips as is considered sufficient to 
 soften the iron to the required degree. The lighted wood 
 bui-ns away, the tire is riveted to the wheel, and the ashes 
 carefully swept up. The little vagabonds take advantage of 
 the heat communicated to the pavement, and do not leave the 
 spot till they have di-awn from it the last radiation of warmth. 
 Similar instances of contentedness, and sharp-witted jDrofiting 
 by what otherwise would be wasted, occur here in great num- 
 ber. I notice in this people the most shrewd and active 
 industry, not to make riches, but to live fii-ee fi.-om care. 
 
 Evening. 
 In order that I might not make any mistake yesterday, as 
 to the house of my odd little princess, and might be there in 
 time, I called a hackney carriage. It stopped before the grand 
 entrance of a spacious palace. As I had no idea of coming 
 to so splendid a dwelling, I repeated to him most distinctly
 
 NAPXES — A DINNEK PAETY. 427 
 
 the name ; he assured me it was quite right.' I soon found 
 myself in a spacious coiu-t, still and lonesome, empty and 
 clean, enclosed by the principal edifice and side buildings. 
 The architecture was the well-known light Neapolitan style, 
 as was also the colouring. Right before me was a grand porch, 
 and a broad but not very high flight of steps. On both sides 
 of it stood a line of servants, in splendid liveries, who, as I 
 passed them, bowed very low. I thought myself the Sultan 
 in Wieland"s faiiy tale, and after his example, took coui-age. 
 Next I was received by the upper domestics, till at last the 
 most courtly of them opened a door, and introduced me into 
 a spacious apartment, which was as splendid, but also as 
 empty of people as all before. In passing backwards and 
 forwards I observed, in a side-room, a table laid out for about 
 forty persons, with a splendour corresponding with all around. 
 A secular priest now entered, and without asking who I was, 
 or whence I came, approached me as if I were ah-eady kno^vn 
 to him, and conversed on the most common-place topics. 
 
 A pair of folding doors were now thrown open and imme- 
 diately closed again, as a gentleman rather advanced in years 
 entered. The priest immediately proceeded towards him, as 
 I also did ; we greeted him with a few words of courtesy, 
 which he returned in a barking stuttering tone, so that I 
 covdd scarcely make out a syllable of his Hottentot dialect. 
 When he had taken his place by the stove, the priest 
 moved away, and I accompanied him. A portly Benedictine 
 entered, accompanied by a younger member of his order. 
 He went to salute the host, and after being also barked at, 
 retired to a window. The reyular clergy, especially those 
 whose di'ess is becoming, have great advantage in society ; 
 their costume is a mark of humility and renunciation of self, 
 while, at the same time it lends to its wearers a decidedly 
 dignified appearance. In their behaviour they may easily, 
 without degrading themselves, appear submissive arid com- 
 plying ; and then again, when they stand upon thcii" o^^^l 
 dignity, their self-respect sits well upon them, although in 
 others it would not be so readily allowed to pass. This was 
 the case with this person. When I asked him about Monte 
 Cassino, he immediately gave me an invitation thither, and 
 promised me the best of welcomes. In the meanwhile the 
 room had become full of people ; officers, people of the court.
 
 428 LETTERS FKdjr ITALY. 
 
 more regulars, and even some Capuchins, had arrived. Once 
 more a set of folding- doors opened and shut ; an aged lady, 
 somewhat older than my host, had entered ; and now the 
 presence of what I took to be the lady of the house, made 
 me feel perfectly confident that I was in a strange mansion, 
 where I was wholly unknown to its owners. Dinner was now 
 served, and I was keeping close to the side of my friends the 
 monks, in order to slip with them into the paradise of the 
 dining-room, when all at once I saw Filangieri, with his 
 wife, enter and make his excuses for being so late. Shortly 
 after this my little princess came into the room, and with 
 nods, and winks, and bows to aU as she passed, came straight 
 to me. — " It is very good of you to keep your word," she 
 exclaimed ; " mind you sit by me, — you shall have the best 
 bits, — wait a minute though ; I must find out which is my 
 projier place, then mind and take yom* place by me." Thus 
 commanded, I followed the various windings she made ; and at 
 last we reached our seats, having the Benedictine right oppo- 
 site and Filangieri on my other side. " The dishes are all 
 good," she observed, — " all lenten fare, but choice : I"ll point 
 out to you the best. But now I must rally the priests, — 
 the churls I I can't bear them ; every day they are cutting a 
 fresh slice off our estate. What we have, we shoxild like 
 to spend on om-selves and ovu- friends." The soup was now 
 handed round, — the Benedictine M'as sipping his very deli- 
 berately. " Pray don't put yom'self out of youi- way, — the 
 spoon is too small, I fear ; I will bid them bring you a larger 
 one. Your reverences are used to a good mouthful." The 
 good father replied, — " In your house, lady, every thing is 
 so excellent, and so Avell arranged, that much more distin- 
 guished guests than yom- humble servant would find every- 
 thing to their heart's content." 
 
 Of the pasties the Benedictine took only one ; she called 
 out to him, — "Pray take half a dozen; pastry, your reverence 
 surely knows, is easy of digestion." With good sense he 
 took another pasty, thanking the princess for her attention, 
 just as if he had not seen through her malicious raillery. 
 And so, also, some solid paste-work furnished her with occa- 
 sion for venting her spite ; for, as the monk helped himself 
 to a piece, a second rolled off the dish towards his plate, — 
 " A third ! your reverence ; you seem anxious to lay a
 
 NAPLES — A DINNER PARTY. 429 
 
 foundation!" — " When such excellent materials are furnished 
 to his hand, the architect's laboui's are easy," rejoined his 
 reverence. Thus she went on continually, only pausing 
 awhile to keep her promise of pointing out to me the best 
 dishes. 
 
 All this while I was conversing with my neighbour on the 
 gravest topics. Absolutely, I never heard Filangieri utter 
 an unmeaning sentence. In this respect, and indeed in many 
 others, he resembles our woi'thy friend, George Schlosser, 
 with this difference, that the foi-mer, as a Neapolitan, and a 
 man of the world, had a softer nature and an easier manner. 
 
 During the whole of this time my roguish neighbour 
 allowed the clerical gentry not a moment's truce. Above all, 
 the fish at this Icnten meal, dished up in imitation of flesh of 
 all kinds, furnished her with inexhaustible opportunities for 
 all manner of irreverent and ill-natured observations ; espe- 
 cially in justification and defence of a taste for flesh, she 
 observed that people would have the form to give a relish, 
 even when the essence was prohibited. 
 
 Many more such jokes were noticed by me at the time, but 
 I am not in the humour to repeat them. Jokes of this kind, 
 fresh spoken, and falling from beautiful lips, may be tolerable, 
 not to say amusing, but sot down in black and white, they 
 lose all charm, for me at least. Then again, the boldly hazarded 
 stroke of wit has this peculiarity, that at the moment it 
 pleases us while it astonishes us by its boldness, but when 
 told afterwards, it sovmds offensive, and disgusts us. 
 
 The dessert was brought in, and I ^vas afraid that the 
 cross-fire would still be kept up, when suddenly my fair 
 neighbour turned quite composedly to me and said, — " ']'lu> 
 priests may gulp their Syracusan wine in peace, for I can- 
 not succeed in worrying a single one to death, — no, not even 
 in spoiling their apj^etites. Now, let me liave some rational 
 talk with you ; for what a heavy sort of thing must a conver- 
 sation with Filangieri be ! The good creature ; he gives him- 
 self a great deal of trouble for nothing. I often say to him, if 
 you make new laws, we must give ourselves fresh pains to 
 find out how we can forthwith transgress them, just as we 
 have already set at naught the old. Only look now, how 
 beautiful Naples is ! For these many j-ears the people have 
 lived free from care and contented, and if now and 'then
 
 430 XETTEKS FROM ITA.LT. 
 
 some poor wretcli is hanged, all the rest still pursue their own 
 merry course." She then proposed that I should pay a visit 
 to Sorrento, where she had a large estate ; her steward would 
 feast me with the best of fish, and the delicious mungana, 
 (flesh of a sucking calf). The moimtain air, and the un- 
 equalled prospect, woidd be sure to cure me of all philosophy, 
 — then she would come herself, and not a trace should remain 
 of alk my wi'inldes, M'hich, by the bye, I had allowed to grow 
 before their time, and together we would have a right merry 
 time of it. 
 
 Naples, March 13, 1787. 
 
 To-day also I write you a few lines, in order that letter 
 may ])rovoke letter. Things go well with me — however, I 
 see less than I ought. The place induces an indolent and 
 easy sort of life ; nevertheless, my idea of it is gradually 
 becoming more and more complete. 
 
 On Sunday we were in Pompeii. Many a calamity has 
 happened in the world, but never one that has caused so much 
 entertainment to posterity as this one. I scarcely know of 
 anything that is more interesting. The houses are small and 
 close together, but within they are all most exquisitely painted. 
 The gate of the city is remarkable, with the tombs close to it. 
 The tomb of a priestess, a semicircular bench, mth a stone 
 back, on which was the inscription cut in large characters. 
 Over the back you have a sight of the sea and the setting sun 
 — a glorious spot, Avorthy of the beautiful idea. 
 
 "We found there good and merry company fi'om Naples ; 
 the men are perfectly natural and light-hearted. We took 
 om- dinner at the " Torre del' Aimimziata," with our table 
 placed close to the sea. The day was extremely fine. The 
 view towards Castell a Mare and Sorrento, near and incompa- 
 rable. My companions were quite rapturous in praise of their 
 native place ; some asserted that without a sight of the sea it 
 was impossible to live. To me it is quite enough that I have 
 its image in my soul, and so, when the time comes, may safely 
 return to my mountam home. 
 
 Fortunately, there is here a very honest painter of land- 
 scapes, who imparts to his pieces the very impression of the
 
 NAPLES — POMPEII POUTICI. 431 
 
 rich and open country around. He has ah-eody executed some 
 sketches for me. 
 
 The Vcsuvian productions I have now pretty Avell studied ; 
 things, however, assume a different signification when one 
 sees them in connection. Properly, I ought to devote the 
 rest of my life to observation : I should discover much that 
 would enlarge man's knowledge. Pray tell Herder that my 
 botanical discoveries are continually advancing ; it is still the 
 same principle, but it requires a whole life to work it out. 
 Perhaps I am already in a situation to draw the leading lines 
 of it. 
 
 I can now enjoy myself at the museum of Portici. Usually 
 people make it the first object, — we mean to make it our last. 
 As yet I do not know whether I shall be able to extend my 
 tour ; all things tend to diive me back to Rome at Easter. I 
 shall let things take their course. 
 
 Angelica has imdertaken to paint a scene out of my " Iphi- 
 genia." The thought is a very happy subject for a picture, 
 and she will delineate it excellently. It is the moment when 
 Orestes finds himself again in the presence of his sister and 
 his friend. What the three characters are saying to each 
 other she has indicated by the grouping, and given theis 
 words in the expressions of their countenances. From thir 
 description you may judge how keenly sensitive she is, and 
 how quick she is to seize whatever is adapted to her nature. 
 And it is really the turning point of the whole drama. 
 
 Fare you well, and love me ! Here the people are aU very 
 good, even though they do not know what to make of me. 
 Tischbein, on the other hand, pleases them far better. This 
 evening he hastily painted some heads of the size of life, and 
 about which they disported themselves as strangely as the 
 New Zealanders at the sight of a ship of war. Of this an 
 amusing anecdote. 
 
 Tischbein has a great knack of etching with a pen the 
 shapes of gods and heroes, of the size of life, and even more. 
 He uses very few lines, but cleverly puts in the shades with a 
 broad pencil, so that the heads stand out roundly and nobly. 
 The bystanders looked on with amazement, and were higlily 
 delighted. At last an itching seized their fingers to try and 
 paint; they snatched the brushes and painted — one another's 
 beaids, daubing each other's faces. Was not this an
 
 432 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 original trait of human nature? And this was done in an 
 elegant circle, in the house of one who was himself a clever 
 draughtsman and painter ! It is impossible to form an idea of 
 this race without liaAang seen it. 
 
 Caserta, Wednesday, March 14, 1787. 
 
 I am here on a visit to Hackcrt, in his hi2:hlv ai^rceable 
 apartments, which have been assigned him in the ancient 
 castle. The new palace, somewhat huge and Escuriallike, of 
 a quadrangular plan, with many courts, is royal enough. The 
 site is uncommonly fine, on one of the most fertile plains in 
 the world, and yet the gardens trench on the mountains. From 
 these an aqueduct brings down an entire river, to supply 
 water to the palace and the district ; and the whole can, on 
 occasion, be thrown on some artificially-arranged rocks, to 
 form a most glorious cascade. The gardens are beautifully 
 laid out, and suit well with a district which itself is thought a 
 garden. 
 
 The castle is truly kingly. It appears to me, however, par- 
 ticularly gloomy ; and no one of us could bring himself to 
 think the vast and emj^ty rooms comfortable. The King pro- 
 bably is of the same opinion, for he has caused a house to be 
 built on the mountains, which, smaller and more proportioned 
 to man's littleness, is intended for a hunting-box and countrj'- 
 seat. 
 
 Caserta, Thursday, MarcK 15, 1787. 
 Hackert is lodged very comfortably in the old castle — it is 
 quite roomy enough for all his guests. Constantly busy with 
 drawing and painting, he ne'S'ertheless is very social, and 
 easily draws men around him, as in the end he generally 
 makes every one become his scholar ; he has also quite won 
 me by putting up patiently with my weaknesses, and insists. 
 above all things, on distinctness of drawing, and marked and 
 clear keeping. When he paints, he has three colours always 
 ready ; and as he works on and uses one after another, a pic- 
 tui e is produced, one knows not how or whence. I wish the 
 execution were as easy as it looks. With his usual blunt 
 honesty he said to , " You have capacity, but you are
 
 NAPLES SULZER S THEORY OP THE FINE ARTS. 433 
 
 unable to accomplish anything ; stay with mc a year and a 
 half, and you shall be able to produce works which shall be a 
 delight to yourself and to others." Is not this a text on which 
 one might preach eternally to dilettanti : — We would like to 
 see Avhat sort of a pupil we can make of you. 
 
 The special confidence with which the queen honors him 
 is evinced not merely by the fact that he gives lessons in prac- 
 tice to the princesses, but still more so by his being fre- 
 quently summoned on an evening to talk with and instruct 
 them on art and kindred subjects. lie makes Sidzer's book 
 the basis of such lectures, selecting the articles, as entertain- 
 ment or conviction may be his object. 
 
 I M-as obliged to approve of this, and, in consequence, to 
 laugh at myself. "V^Tiat a difference is there between him who 
 wishes to investigate principles, and one whose highest object 
 is to work on the world and to teach them for their mere pri- 
 vate amusement. Sulzcr's theory was always odious to me on 
 account of the falseness of its fundamental maxim, but now 
 I saw that the book contained much more than the multitude 
 require. The varied information which is here communicated, 
 the mode of thinking with which alone so active a mind as 
 Sulzer's could be satisfied, must have been quite sufficient for 
 the ordinary run of people. 
 
 Many happy and profitable hours have I spent with the 
 picture-restorer Anders, who has been summoned hither from 
 Rome, and resides in the Castle, and industriously pursues 
 his work, in which the king takes a great interest. Of his 
 skill in restoring old paintings, I dare not begin to speak, 
 since it would be necessary to describe the whole process of 
 this yet difficult craft, — and wherein consists the difficulty 
 of the problem, and the merit of success. 
 
 Caserta, March 16, 1787. 
 
 Yom- dear letter of the 19th February reached me to-day, 
 and I must forthwith dispatch a word or two in reply. How 
 glad should I be to come to my senses again, by thinking of 
 my friends ! 
 
 Naples is a paradise : in it every one lives in a sort of 
 intoxicated self-forgetfulness. It is even so with me ; I scarcely 
 know myself — I seem quite an altered man. Yesterda}- I 
 
 Vol. II. 2 F
 
 434 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 said to myself : either you have always been mad, or you are 
 so now. 
 
 I have paid a visit to the ruins of ancient Capua, and all 
 that is connected with it. 
 
 In this country one first begins to have a true idea of what 
 vegetation is, and why man tills the fields. The flax here is al- 
 ready near to blossoming, and the wheat a span and a-half high. 
 Around Caserta the land is perfectly level, the fields worked 
 as clean and as fine as the beds of a garden. All of them are 
 planted with poplars, and from tree to tree the vine spreads ; 
 and yet, notwithstanding this shade, the soil below produces the 
 finest and most abundant crops possible. What will they be 
 when the spring shall come in power ! Hitherto we have had 
 very cold winds, and there has been snow on the mountains. 
 
 Within fom-teen days I must decide whether to go to Sicily 
 or not. Never before have I been so tossed backwards 
 and forwards in coming to a resolution : eveiy day something 
 wdl occur to recommend the trip ; the next morning — some 
 circumstance will be against it. Two spirits are contending 
 for me. 
 
 I say this in confidence, and for my female friends alone : 
 speak not a word of it to my male friends. I am well 
 aware that my " Iphigeuia" has fared strangely. The 
 public were so accustomed to the old form, expressions 
 which it had adopted from frequent hearing and reading, 
 were familiar to it; and now qiute a different tone is soimd- 
 ing in its ears ; and I clearly see that no one, in fact, thanks 
 me for the endless pains I have been at. Such a work is 
 never finished : it must, however, pass for such, as soon as 
 the author has done his utmost, considering time and circum- 
 stances. 
 
 All this, however, wiU not be able to deter me fi'om trying 
 a similar operation with " Tasso." Perhaps it would be 
 better to throw it into the fire ; however, I shall adhere to 
 my resolution, and since it must be what it is, I shall make a 
 wonderful work of it. On this account, I am pleased to find that 
 the printing of my works goes on so slowly ; and then, again, 
 it is well to be at a distance from the munnurs of the compo- 
 sitor. Strange enough that even in one's most independent 
 actions, one expects, nay, requires a stimulus.
 
 NAPIiES LADY HAMILTON. 435 
 
 Caserta, March 16, 1787. 
 If in Rome one can readily set oneself to study, here one 
 can do nothing but live. You forget yourself and the 
 world; and to me it is a strange feeling to go about with 
 people who think of nothing but enjoying themselves. Sir 
 William Hamilton, who still resides here as ambassador from 
 England, has at length, after his long love of art, and long 
 study, discovered the most perfect of admirers of natm'e and 
 art in a beautiful young woman. She lives Avith him : an 
 English woman of about twenty years old. She is very 
 handsome, and of a beautiful figure. The old knight has 
 had made for her a Greek costume, which becomes her ex- 
 tremely. Dressed in this, and letting her hair loose, and 
 taking a couple of shawls, she exhibits everj' possible variety 
 of posture, expression, and look, so that at the last the spec- 
 tator almost fancies it is a dream. One beholds here in per- 
 fection, in movement, in raAdshing variety, all that the greatest 
 of artists have rejoiced to be able to produce. Standing, 
 kneeling, sitting, lying down, grave or sad, playful, ex- 
 ulting, repentant, wanton, menacing, anxious — all mental 
 states follow rapidly one after another. With wonderful 
 taste she suits the folding of her veil to each expression, and 
 with the same handkerchief makes every land of head-dress. 
 The old knight holds the light for her, and enters into the 
 exhibition with his whole soul. He thinks he can discern 
 in her a resemblance to all the most famous antiques, all the 
 beautifid profiles on the Sicilian coins — aye, of the ApoUo 
 Belvedere itself. Tliis much at any rate is certain — the 
 entertainment is unique. We spent two evenings on it with 
 thorough enjoyment. To-day Tischbein is engaged in paint- 
 ing her. 
 
 What I have seen and inferred of the personnel of the 
 Comt requires to be f\irther tested, before I set it down. 
 To-day the king is gone hunting the wolves : they hope to 
 kill at least five. 
 
 Naples, March 17, 1787. 
 When I woidd write words, images only start before 
 my eyes, — the beautiful land, the free sea ; the hazy 
 
 2 F 2
 
 436 ' LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 islands, the roaring mountain ; — powers to delineate all this 
 fail me. 
 
 Here in this country one at last understands hov»- it ever 
 came into the head of man to till the ground — here where 
 it produces everything, and where one may look for as many 
 as from three to five crops in the year. 
 
 I have seen much, and reflected still more. The world 
 opens itself to me more and more — all even that I have long 
 known is at last becoming my own. How quick to know, 
 hut hov.' slow to put in practice, is the hiunan creatm'c! 
 
 The only pity is, that I cannot at each moment communi- 
 cate to others my observations. But, both as man and artist, 
 one is here driven backwards and forwards by a hundred ideas 
 of his own, while his services are put in requisition by hun- 
 dreds of persons. His situation is peculiar and strange ; he 
 cannot freely sympathize M'ith another's being, because he 
 finds his own exertions so put to the stretch. 
 
 And after all. the world is nothing but a wheel : in its 
 whole peripherj- it is every v.here similar, but, nevertheless, 
 it appears to us so strange, because we ourselves ai'e earned 
 round with it. 
 
 WTiat I always said has actually come to pass : in this 
 land alone do I begin to understand and to unravel many a 
 phenomenon of natm-e, and complication of opinion. I am 
 gathering from every quarter, and shall bring back witli me 
 a great deal, — certainly much love of my ov/n native land, 
 and joy to live with a few dear friends. 
 
 With regard to my vSiciliau tour, the gods still hold the 
 scales in their hands : the index still wavers.
 
 :naples — iioussEAU. 437 
 
 Who can the friend be who has thus mysteriously an- 
 nounced? Only, may I not neglect him in my pilgrimage 
 and tour in the island ! 
 
 Tlie frigate from Palermo has returned : in eight days she 
 sets sail again. Whether I shall sail with it, and be back at 
 Rome by Passion Week, I have not as yet determined. 
 Never in my life have I been so undecided : a trifle will 
 tm'n the scale. 
 
 With men I get on rather better : for I feel that one must 
 weigh them by avoirdupois weight, and not by the jewel- 
 ler's scales ; as, imfortunatcly, friends too often weigh one 
 another in their hypochondriacal himiours and in an over- 
 exacting spirit. 
 
 Here men know nothing of one another ; they scarcely 
 observe that others are also going on their way, side b}' side 
 with them. They run all day backwards and forwards in a 
 Paradise, without looking around them ; and if the neigh- 
 bouring jaws of hell begin to open and to rage, they have rc- 
 com-se to S. Januarius. 
 
 To pass through such a countless multitude, with its rest- 
 less excitement, is strange, but salutary. Here they are all 
 crossing and recrossing one another, and yet every one finds 
 his way and his object. In so great a crowd and bustle I feel 
 myself perfectly calm and solitary ; the more bustling the 
 str. ets become, the more (juietly I move. 
 
 Often do I tliink of Kousseau and his hypochondriacal 
 discontent ; and I can thoroughly understand how so fine an 
 organization may have been deranged. Did I not myself feel 
 such sympathy with natural objects ; and did I not see that, 
 in the apparent perplexity, a hundred seemingly contrary 
 observations admit of being reconciled, and arranged side by 
 side, just as the geometer by a cross line tests many^ mea- 
 surements, I should often think myself mad.
 
 438 LETTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 Naples, March 18, 1787. 
 
 We must not any longer put off our visit to Herculaneum, 
 and the Museum of Portici, where the curiosities which have 
 been dvig out of it are collected and preserved. That ancient 
 city, lying at the foot of Vesu-sdus, was entirely covered with 
 lava, which subsequent erujotions succesively raised so high, 
 that the buildings are at present sixty feet below the sm-face. 
 The city was discovered by some men coming upon a mai-ble 
 pavement, as they were digging a well. It is a great pity that 
 the excavation Avas not executed systematically by German 
 miners ; for it is admitted that the work, which was can-ied on 
 at random, and with the hope of plunder, has spoilt many anoble 
 monument of ancient art. After descending sixty steps into a 
 pit, by torch-light you gaze in admiration at the theatre which 
 once stood beneath the open sky, and listen to the g-uide re- 
 comiting all that was found there, and carried off. 
 
 We entered the museiun well recommended, and Avere well 
 received ; nevertheless we were not allowed to take any 
 drawings. Perhaps on this account we paid the more atten- 
 tion to what we saw, and the more vividly transported our- 
 selves into those long-passed times, when all these things 
 surrounded their li\dng OA^-ners, and ministered to the use and 
 enjojTaent of Hfe. The little houses and rooms of Pompeii 
 now appeared to me at once more spacious and more con- 
 fined — more confined, because I fancied them to myself 
 crammed full of so many precious objects : more spacious, 
 because these very objects covild not have been furnished 
 merely as necessaries, but, being decorated Avith the most 
 graceful and ingenious devices of the imitatiA'e arts, while 
 they delighted the taste, must also have enlarged the 
 mind far beyond Avhat the amplest house-room could ever have 
 done. 
 
 One sees here, for instance, a nobly-shaped pail, mounted 
 at the top AAath a highly-ornamented edge. When you 
 examine it more closely, yovi find that this rim rises on two 
 sides, and so furnishes convenient handles by which the A^essel 
 may be lifted. The lamps, according to the nimiber of their 
 Avicks, are ornamented Avith masks and mountings, so that 
 each burner illuminates a genuine figm-e of art. We also saw 
 some high and gracefully slender stands of iron for holding
 
 NAPLES ENGAGEMENT WITH KNIEP. 439 
 
 lamps, the pendant burners being svispended with figures of all 
 kinds, which display a wonderful fertility of invention ; and 
 as, in order to please and delight the eye, they sway and oscil- 
 late, the eifect surpasses all description. 
 
 In the hope of being able to pay a second visit, we followed 
 the usher from room to room, and snatched all the dclisrht 
 and instruction that was possible from a cursory view. 
 
 Naples, Monday, March 19, 1787. 
 Within these last few days I have formed a new connexion. 
 Tischbein for three or four weeks has faithfully lent me all 
 the assistance in his power, and diligently explained to me the 
 works both of natm-e and art. Yesterday, however, after being 
 at the Museum of Portici, we had some conversation together, 
 and we came to the conclusion that, considering his OAvn ar- 
 tistic objects, he could not perform, Avith credit to himself, 
 the works which, in the hope of some futm-e appointment 
 in Naples, he has undertaken for the Court and ifor several 
 persons in the city, nor do justice to my views, wishes, and 
 fancies. With sincere good wishes for my success, he has 
 therefore recommended to me for my constant companion 
 a young man whom, since I arrived here, I have often 
 seen, not without feeling some inclination and liking for 
 him. His name is Kniep, who, after a long stay at Rome, 
 has come to Naples as the true field and element of the 
 landscape-painter. Even .in Rome I had heard him highly 
 spoken of as a clever draughtsman — only his industry "vvas 
 not much commended. I have tolerably stiidied his cha- 
 racter, and think the ground of this censure arises rather 
 from a want of a decision, which certainly may be overcome, 
 if we are long together A favourable beginning confirms me 
 in this hope ; and if he continues to go on thus, we shall 
 continue good companions for some time. 
 
 Naples, March 19, 1787. 
 
 One needs only to walk along the streets, and keep one's 
 
 eyes well open, and one is sure to sec the most unequalled of 
 
 scenes. At the Mole, one of the noisiest quarters of the 
 
 city, I saw yesterday a Pulcinello, who on a temporary stage
 
 440 XETTEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 of planks was quarrelling with an ape, while from a balcony 
 above a right pretty maiden was exjiosing her charms to 
 every eye. Not far from the ape and his stage a quack 
 doctor was recommending to the credulous crowd his 
 nostrums for eveiy evil. Such a scene painted by a Ger- 
 ard Dow would not fail to charm contemporaries and pos- 
 terity. 
 
 To-day, moreover, was the festival of S. Joseph. He is the 
 patron of all Fritaruoli — that is, pastry-cooks, and understands 
 baking in a very extensive sense. Because beneath the black 
 and seething oil hot flames will, of course, rage, — therefore, 
 every kind of torture by fire falls within his province. 
 Accordingly, yesterday CA'ening, being the eve of the Saint's 
 day, the fronts of the houses were adorned with pictm'es, to 
 the best of the inmates' skill, representing souls in Purgatory, 
 or the Last Judgment, with plenty of fire and flame. Before the 
 doors frying-pans were hissing on hastily-constructed hearths. 
 One partner was ■working the dough, another shaped it into 
 twists, and tlu'cw it into the boiling lard ; a third stood by 
 the frying-pan, holding a short skewer, with which he drew 
 out the twists as soon as they were done, and shoved them off 
 on another skewer to a fourth party, who offered them to the 
 bystanders. The two last were generally young apjirentices, 
 and wore white cm-ly wigs, — this head-dress being the Neapo- 
 litan symbol of an angel. Other figures besides completed 
 the group ; and these were busy in presenting wine to the 
 busy cooks, or in drinking themselves, crying, and puffing 
 the article all the while ; the angels, too, and cooks were all 
 clamouring. The people crowded to buy — for all pastry is 
 sold chea]) on this evening, and a part of the profits given 
 to the poor. 
 
 Scenes of this kind may be witnessed without end. Thus 
 fares it every day ; alwa}s something new — some fresh 
 absurdity. The variety of costume, too, that meets j'ou in 
 the streets ; the multitude, too, of passages in the Toledo 
 street alone ! 
 
 Thus there is plenty of most original entertainment, if only 
 one will live with the people ; it is so natm-al, that one almost 
 becomes natm-al oneself For this is the original birth-place 
 of Pulcinello, the true national mask — the Harlequin of 
 Pergamo, and the Hanswurth of the Tyrol. This Pulcinello
 
 NAPLES ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS. 441 
 
 now is a thoroughly easy, sedate, somewhat indifferent, 
 perhaps lazy, and yet humorous fellow. And so one meets 
 everywhere with a "Kellner" and a "Hausknecht." With ours 
 I had special fun yesterday, and yet there was nothing 
 more than my sending him to fetch some paper and pens. A 
 half misunderstanding, a little loitering, good humour and 
 roguery, produced a most amusing scene, which might be 
 veiy successfully brought out on any stage. 
 
 Naples, Tuesday, March 20, 1787. 
 
 The news that an eruption of lava had just commenced, 
 which, taking the direction of Ottajano, was invisible at Na- 
 ples, tempted me to visit Vesuvius for the third time. Scarcely 
 had I jumped out of my cabriolet (zweiradrigen einpferdigen 
 Fuhrwerk), at the foot of the moimtain, when immediately ap- 
 peared the two guides who had accompanied us on our prcvdous 
 ascent. I had no wish to do without either, but took one out of 
 gratitude and custom, the other for reliance on his judgment, — 
 and the two for the greater convenience. Having ascended 
 the summit, the older guide remained with our cloaks and 
 I'efreshment, while the younger followed me, and \\c boldly 
 went straight towards a dense volume of smoke, which broke 
 forth from the bottom of the funnel ; then we quickly went 
 downwards by the side of it, till at last, under the clear heaven, 
 we distinctly saw the lava emitted from the rolling clouds of 
 smoke. 
 
 We may hear an object spoken of a thousand times, l)ut 
 its peculiar features will never be caught till we see it with 
 cm* own eyes. The stream of lava was small, not broader 
 perhaps than ten feet, but the way in which it flowed doAATi 
 a gentle and tolerably smooth plain was remarkable. As it 
 flowed along, it cooled both on the sides and on the sm-face, 
 so that it formed a sort of canal, the bed of which was contin- 
 ually raised in consequence of the molten mass congealing 
 even beneath the fiery stream, which, with luiiform action, 
 precipitated right and left the scoria which were floating on 
 its surface. In this way a regular dam was at length thrown 
 up, in which the glowing stream flowed on as quietly as 
 any mill-stream. We passed along the tolerably high' dam,
 
 42 LETTERS EEOM ITALY. 
 
 wlille the scoria rolled regularly off the sides at our feet. 
 Some cracks in the canal afforded opportunity of looldng 
 at the living stream from beloAv, and as it rushed onwards, we 
 observed it from above. 
 
 A very bright sim made the glowing lava look duU ; but a mo- 
 derate steam rose from it into the pure air. I felt a great desire 
 to go nearer to the point where it broke out from the moim- 
 tain ; there my guide averred, it at once formed A'aiilts and 
 roofs above itself, on which he had often stood. To see and ex- 
 perience this phenomenon, we again ascended the hill, in order 
 to come from behind to this point. Fortunately at this mo- 
 ment the place was cleared by a pretty strong Avind, but not 
 entirely, for all roimd it the smoke eddied from a thousand 
 crannies ; and now at last we stood on the top of the solid 
 roof, (which looked like a hardened mass of twisted dough), 
 but which, however, projected so far outwards, that it was 
 impossible to see the welling lava. 
 
 We ventiu-ed about twenty steps further, but the ground 
 on which we stepped became hotter and hotter, while around 
 us rolled an oppressive steam, which obscured and hid the 
 sun ; the guide, who was a few steps in advance of me, pre- 
 sently turned back, and seizing hold of me, hm-ried out of this 
 Stygian exhalation. 
 
 After we had refi-eshed our eyes with the clear prospect, 
 and washed our gums and throat with wine, we went round 
 again to notice any other peculiarities which might charac- 
 terise this peak of heU, thus rearing itself in the midst of a 
 Paradise. I again observed attentively some chasms, in appear- 
 ance like so many Vulcanic forges, which emitted no smoke, 
 but continually shot out a steam of hot glowing air. They were 
 all tapestried, as it were, with a kind of stalactite, which covered 
 the funnel to the top, with its knobs and chintz-like variation 
 of colours. In consequence of the irregularity of the forges, 
 I fomid many specimens of this sublimation hanging within 
 reach, so that, with our staves and a little contrivance, we 
 were able to hack off a few, and to secure them. I saw in the 
 shops of the dealers in lava similar specimens, labelled simply 
 "Lava ;" and I was delighted to have discovered that it was 
 volcanic soot precipitated from the hot vapour, and dis- 
 tinctly exhibiting the sublimated mineral particles which it 
 contained.
 
 NAPLES SIK WILLIAM HAMILTON. 443 
 
 The most glorious of sunsets, a heavenly evening, refreshed 
 me on my return ; still I felt how all great contrasts confound 
 the mind and senses. From the terrible to the beautiful — 
 from the beautiful to the terrible ; each destroys the other, 
 and produces a feeling of indifference. Assuredly, the Neapo- 
 litan woidd be quite a diflPerent creature, did he not feel him- 
 self thus hemmed in between Elysium and Tartarus. 
 
 Naples, March 22, 1787. 
 
 Were I not impelled by the German spirit, and desire to 
 learn and to do rather than to enjoy, I should tarry a little 
 longer in this school of a light-hearted and happy life, and 
 try to profit by it still more. Here it is enough for content- 
 .ment, if a man has ever so little an income. The situation of 
 the city, the mildness of the climate, can never be sufiiciently 
 extolled ; but it is almost exclusively to these that the sti-anger 
 is referred. 
 
 No doubt, one who has abundance of time, tact, and means, 
 might remain here for a long time, with profit to himself. Thus 
 Sir William Hamilton has contrived highly to enjoy a long resi- 
 dence in this city, and now, in the evening of his life, is reaping 
 the fruits of it. The rooms which he has had furnished in the 
 English style, are most delightful, and the view from the 
 corner room, perhaps, unique. Below you is the sea, with 
 a view of Capri, Posilippo on the right, with the prome- 
 nade of Villa Real between you and the gi'otto ; on the left 
 an ancient building belonging to the Jesuits, and beyond it 
 the coast stretching from Sorrento to Cape Minerva. Another 
 prospect equal to this is scarcely to be found in Europe. — at 
 least, not in the eenti-e of a great and populous city. 
 
 Hamilton is a person of universal taste, and after having 
 wandered through the whole realm of creation, has found 
 rest at last in a most beautiful -wife, a masterpiece of the great 
 artist — Nature . 
 
 And now after all this, and a hundred-fold more of enjoy- 
 ment, the sii'ens from over the sea are beckoning me ; and if 
 the wind is favorable, I shall start at the same time with this 
 letter, — it for the north, I for the south. The human mind 
 will not be confined to any limits — I especially require breadth 
 and extent in an eminent degree ; however, I must content
 
 444 XETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 myself on this occasion -with a rapid survey, and must not 
 think of a long fixed look. If by hearing and thinking. I can 
 only attain to as much of any object as a finger's tip, I shall 
 be able to make out the whole hand. 
 
 Singularly enough, within these few days, a friend has 
 spoken to me of Wilhelm Meister, and urged me to continue 
 it. In this climate, I don't think it possible ; however, some- 
 thing of the air of this heaven may, perhaps, be imparted to 
 the closing books. May my existence only unfold itself suffi- 
 ciently to lengthen the stem, and to produce richer and finer 
 flowers ; certainly it were better for me never to have come 
 here at all, than to go away unregenerated. 
 
 Naples, March 22, 1787. 
 Yesterday we saw a picture of Correggio's, which is for sale. 
 It is not, indeed, in very good preservation ; however, it still 
 retains the happiest stamp possible of all the peculiar charms of 
 this painter. It represents a Madonna, with the infant, hesi- 
 tating between the breast and some pears which an angel is 
 offering it ; the subject, therefore, is the weaning of Christ. 
 To me the idea appears extremely tender ; the composition 
 easy and natural, and hajjpily and charmingly executed. It 
 immediately reminded me of the Vow of S. Catherine, and, 
 in my opinion, the painting is imquestionably from the hand 
 of Correggio. 
 
 Naples, Friday, 3Iarch 23, 1 787. 
 The terms of my engagement with Kniep are now settled, 
 and it has commenced in a right practical way. We went toge- 
 ther to Pfestum, where, and also on our journey thither and 
 back, he showed the greatest industry with his pencil. He has 
 taken some of the most glorious outlines possible. He seems 
 to relish this moving but busy sort of life, which has called for 
 a talent which he was scarcely conscious of. This comes of 
 being resolute : but it is exactly here that his accurate and 
 nice skill shows itself. He never stops to surround the paper 
 on which he is about to draw with the usual rectangular lines; 
 however, he seems to take as much pleasure in cutting points 
 to his pencil, which is of the best English lead, as in drawing
 
 NAPLES A SKETCHING EXCURSION. 445 
 
 itself. Thus liis outlines are just what one would wish them 
 to be. 
 
 Now we have come to the following arrangement : — From 
 this clay forward, we are to live and travel together ; while he 
 is to have nothing to trouble himself about but drawing, as he 
 has done for the last few days. 
 
 All the sketches ai'e to be mine ; but in order to a further 
 profit, after our return, from our connexion, he is to finish for 
 a certain sum a number of them, which I am to select ; and 
 then, remuneration for the others is to be settled according to 
 the dexterity he evinces in them, and the importance of the 
 views taken, and other considerations. This arrangement 
 has made me quite happy, and now at last I can give you an 
 account of om* jom-ney. 
 
 Sitting in a light two-wheeled carriage, and driving in tmm, 
 with a rough good-natured boy behind, we rolled through the 
 glorious country, which Kniep greeted M-ith a true artistic 
 eye. We now reached the mountain stream, which, running 
 along a smooth artificial channel, skirts most delightful rocks 
 and woods. At last, in the district of AUa Cava, Kniep could 
 not contain himself, but set to work to fix on paper a splendid 
 mountain, which right before us stood out boldly against the 
 blue sky, and with a clever and characteristic touch drew 
 the outlines of the summit, with the sides also, down to its 
 very base. We both made merry with it, as the earnest of our 
 contract. 
 
 A similar sketch was taken in the evening from the win- 
 dow, of a singularly lovely and rich country, which passes 
 all my powers of description. Who would not have been 
 disposed to study at such a s]iot, in those bright times, ^\•he^ 
 a high school of art was floiu'ishing? Very early in the 
 morning we set off by an untrodden path, coming occasionally 
 on marshy spots towards two beautifully .shaped hills. We 
 crossed brooks and pools, where the wild bulls, like hippo- 
 potamuses, were wallowing, and looking upon us with their 
 wild red eyes. 
 
 The countr)^ grew flatter and more desolate ; the scarcity 
 of the buildings bespoke a sparing cultivation. At last, when 
 we were doubting whether we were passing through rocks or 
 ruins, some great oblong masses enabled us to distinguish the 
 remains of tem2)les and other monuments of a once spleiidid
 
 446 XEXTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 city. Kniep, who had akeady sketched on the way the two 
 pictui-esque limestone hills, suddenly stopped to find a spot 
 from which to seize and exhibit the peculiarity of this most 
 unpicturesque region. 
 
 A countryman, whom I took for my guide, led me the mean- 
 while through the buildings. The first sight of them excited 
 nothing but astonishment. I found myself in a perfectly sti-ange 
 world ; for, as centuries pass from the severe to the pleasing, 
 they foim man's taste at the same time — indeed, create him 
 after the same law. But now our eyes, and through them 
 our whole inner being, has been used to, and decidedly jDre- 
 possessed in favor of, a lighter style of architecture ; so that 
 these crowded masses of stumpy conical pUlars appear heavy, 
 not to say frightful. But I soon recollected myself, called to 
 mind the history of art, thought of the times when the spirit 
 of the age was in unison with this style of architecture, and 
 realised the severe style of scidpture ; and in less than an hour 
 found myself reconciled to it, — nay, I went so far as to thank 
 my genius for permitting me to see with my own eyes such 
 well-preserved remains, since drawings give us no true idea 
 of them ; for, in architectural sketches, they seem more ele- 
 gant, and in perspective views even more stumpy than they 
 actually are. It is only by going round them, and passing 
 through them, that you can impai't to them their real cha- 
 racter ; you evoke for them, not to say infuse into them, the 
 very feeling which the architect had in contemplation. And 
 thus I spent the whole day, Kneip the wlnle working away 
 most diligently in taking veiy accm-ate sketches. How de- 
 lighted was I to be exempt from that care, and yet to acquire 
 such unfailing tokens for the aid of memory ! Unfortunately, 
 there was no accommodation for spending the night here. 
 We returned to Sorrento, and started early next morning for 
 Naples. Vesuvius, seen fr'om the back, is a rich coimtry ; 
 poplars, with their colossal pp-amids, on the road-side, in 
 the foregroimd ; these, too, formed an agreeable feature, 
 which we halted a moment to take. 
 
 We now reached an eminence. The most extensive area in 
 the world opened before us. Naples, in all its splendom* : its 
 mile-long line of houses on the flat shore of the bay, the pro- 
 montories, tongues of land and walls of rock ; then the islands, 
 and, behind aU, the sea, — the whole was a ravishing sight.
 
 NAPXES A'N APPARITION. 447 
 
 A most hideous singing, or rather exulting cry and howl of 
 joy, from the boy behind, frightened and distiu'bed us. Some- 
 what angrily, I called out to him ; he had never had any 
 harsh words from us, — ^he had been a \ery good boy. 
 
 For a while he did not move ; then he patted me lightly on 
 the shoulder, and pushing between us both his right arm, 
 with the fore-finger stretched out, exclaimed, " Signor, per- 
 donate ! questa e la mia patria!" — which, being interpreted, 
 runs, " Forgive me. Sir, for that is my native land!'' And so 
 I was ra\ished a second time. Something like a tear stood 
 in the eyes of the phlegmatic child of the north. 
 
 Naples, March 25, 1787. 
 
 Although I saw that Ivniep was delighted to go with me to 
 the festival of the Annunciation, still I could not fail to ob- 
 serve that there was a something he was sorry to part from. 
 His candour could not let him long conceal from me the fact, 
 that he had formed here a close and faithful attachment. It 
 was a pretty talc to listen to, the story of theii* first meeting, 
 and the description of the fair one's behaviour up to this time 
 told in her favour ; Kniep, moreover, insisted on my going and 
 seeing for myself how pretty she really was. Accordingly, an 
 oppoi-timity was contrived, and so as to afibrd me the enjoy- 
 ment of one of the most agreeable ■xdews over Naples. He took 
 me to the flat roof of a house, which commanded a sm-vey of 
 the lower town, near the Mole, the bay, and the shore of Sor- 
 rento ; all that lay beyond on the left, became fore-shortened 
 in the strangest way possible, and which, except from this par- 
 ticular spot, was never witnessed. Naples is, eveiy where, 
 beautiful and glorious. 
 
 While we were admiring the country around, suddenly, 
 (although expected), a very beautiful face presented itself above 
 the roof — for the entrance to these flat roofs is generally an 
 oblong opening in the roof, -svhich can be covered, when not 
 used, by a trap-door. While, then, the little angel appeared in 
 full figure above the opening, it occmTcd to me that ancient 
 painters usually represent the Annunciation by making the 
 angel ascend by a similar trap-door. But the angel on this 
 occasion was really of a very fine form, of a very pretty face, 
 and a good natural carriage. It was a real joy to me, under
 
 448 lETTERS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 the free heaven, and in presence of the finest prospect in the 
 world, to see my new friend so happy. After her departure, 
 he confessed to me that he had hitherto volmitarily endured 
 poverty, as by that means he had enjoyed her love ; and at 
 the same time, had learned to appreciate her contented dis- 
 position : and now his better prospects, and improved condi- 
 tion, were chiefly prized, because they procured hiin the means 
 of making her days more comfortable. 
 
 Naples, MarcJi 25, 1787. 
 After this pleasant little incident I walked on the shore, 
 calm and happy. There a good insight into botanical matters 
 opened on me. Tell Herder that I am very near finding 
 the primal vegetable type ; only I fear that no one wiU be 
 able to trace in it the rest of the vegetable kingdom. My 
 famous theory of the Cotyledons is so refined, that perhaps it 
 is impossible to go further with it. 
 
 Naples, March 26, 1787. 
 
 To-moiTOw this letter will leave this for you. On Thurs- 
 day, the 29th, I go to Palermo in the corvette, which formerly, 
 in my ignorance of sea matters, I promoted to the rank of a 
 frigate. The doubt whether I should go or remain made me 
 unsettled even in the use of my stay here ; now I have made 
 up my mind, things go on better. For my mental state this 
 journey is salutary — indeed necessary. I see Sicily pointing 
 to Africa, and to Asia, and to the wonderful, whither so many 
 rays of the world" s history are directed : even to stand still is 
 no trifle ! 
 
 I have treated Naples quite in its oa\ti style. I have been 
 anj-thing but industrious. And yet I have seen a great deal, 
 and formed a pretty general idea of the land, its inhabitants, 
 and condition. On my return there is much that I shall have 
 to go over again ; indeed, only *' go over," for by the 29th of 
 June I must be in Rome again. As I have missed the Holy 
 Week, I must not fail to be present at the festivities of St. 
 Peter's Day. My Sicilian expedition must not altogether draw 
 me off" from my original plans. 
 
 The day before yesterday we had a violent storm, with 
 thunder, lightning, and rain. Now it is agaiu clear ; a glo-
 
 KAPLES — DEPAETUE.E FOR SICILY. 449 
 
 rious Tramontane is blowins- ; if it lasts, we shall have a rapid 
 passage. 
 
 Yesterday I went with my fellow-traveller to see the vessel, 
 and to take our cabin. A sea voyage is utterly out of the 
 pale of my ideas ; this short trip, which will probably be a 
 mere coasting one, will help my imagination, and enlarge my 
 world. The captain is a young lively fellow ; the ship trim 
 and clean, built in America, and a good sailer. 
 
 Here every spot begins to look green ; Sicily, they tell me, I 
 shall find still more so. By the time you get this letter I shall 
 be on my return, leaving Trinacria behind me. Such is 
 man ; he is always either anticipating or recalling ; I have 
 not yet been there ; and yet I now am, in thought, back again 
 with you ! However, for the confusion of this letter I am not 
 to blame. Every moment I am interrupted, and yet I would, 
 if possible, fill this sheet to the very corner. 
 
 Just now I have had a visit from a Marchese Berio, a yoimg 
 man who appears to be well informed. He M^as anxious to 
 make the acquaintance of the author of " Werther." Generally, 
 indeed, the people here evince a great desire for, and delight 
 in, learning and accomphshments. Only they are too happy 
 to go the right way to acquire them. Had I more time, I 
 would willingly devote it to observing the Neapolitans. These 
 four weeks — what are they, compared with the endless variety 
 of life ? 
 
 Now, fare you well. On these travels I have learnt one 
 thing at least — how to travel well ; whether I am learning to 
 live, I know not. The men who pretend to understand that art, 
 are, in nature and manner, too widely different from me, for 
 setting up any claim to such a talent. 
 
 Farewell, and love me as sincerely as I from my heart re- 
 member you. 
 
 Naples, March 28, 1787. 
 
 These few days have been entirely passed in packing and 
 leave-taking; with making all necessary arrangements, and 
 paying bills ; looking for missing ailiclcs, and with prepara- 
 tions of all kinds. I set the time down as lost. 
 
 The Prince of Walbeck has, just at my departure, imsettled 
 me again. For he has been talking of nothing less than that I 
 should arrange, on my return, to go with him to Greece <ind 
 
 Vol. H. 2 a
 
 450 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 Dalmatia. When one enters once into the world, and gives 
 way to it, it is necessary to be very cautious, lest one should 
 be carried away, not to say driven mad by it. I am utterly 
 incaf vJble of adding another syllable. 
 
 Naples, March 29, 1787. 
 For some days the weather has been very unsettled ; to-day, 
 (the appointed time for our sailing), it is again as fine as pos- 
 sible. A favourable north wind, a bright sunny sky, beneath 
 which one wishes oneself in the wide world ! Now I bid an 
 affectionate farewell to aU my friends in Weimar and Gotha. 
 Your love accompanies mc ; for wherever I am I feel my need 
 of you. Last night I dreamt I was again among old familiar 
 faces. It seems as if I could not imload my boat of phea- 
 sants' feathers any where but among you. May it be well 
 loaded. 
 
 SICILY. 
 
 At Sea, Thursday, March 29, 1787. 
 A fresh and favourable breeze from the north-east is not blow- 
 ing this time, as it did at the last sailing of the packet. But, 
 xmfortunately, a dii-ect head- wind comes from the opposite 
 quarter, the south-west — and so we are experiencing to om* cost 
 how much the traveller by sea depends upon the caprice of the 
 wind and weather. Out of all patience, we whiled away the 
 morning either on the shore or in the coffee-house ; at last, at 
 noon we went on board, and the weather being extremely 
 fine, we enjoyed the most glorious of views. The corvette 
 lay at anchor near to the Mole. With an imclouded sun the 
 atmosphere was hazy, giving to the rocky walls of Sorrento, 
 which were in the shade, a tint of most beautiful blue. 
 Naples, with its living multitudes, lay in the full sunshine, 
 and glittered briUiantly with countless tints. It was not imtil 
 simset that the vessel began slowly to move firom her moor- 
 ings ; then the wind which was contrary drove us over to 
 Posilippo, and its promontory. All night long the ship went 
 quietly on its way. She is a swift sailer, and was built in
 
 THE VOYAGE TO SICILY. 451 
 
 America, and is well fitted with cabins and berths. The 
 passengers cheerful, but not boisterous. Opera-singers and 
 dancers, consigned to Palermo. 
 
 Friday, March 30, 1787. 
 
 By day -break we found ourselves between Ischia and Capri 
 —perhaps not more than a mile from the latter. The sun 
 rose from behind the mountains of Capri and Cape Minerva. 
 Kniep diligently sketched the outlines of the coasts and the 
 islands, and took several beautiful views. The slowness of the 
 passage was favourable to his labours. We were making our 
 way but slowly under a light side-wind. "We lost sight of Vesu- 
 vius about four, just as we came in view of Cape Minerva and 
 Ischia. These, too, disappeared about evening. The sun set in 
 the sea, attended with clouds, and a long streak of light, 
 reaching for miles, all of a brilliant purple. This phenomenon 
 was also sketched by Kniep. At last we lost sight altogether 
 of the land, and the wateiy horizon surrounded us, the night 
 being clear, with lovely moonlight. 
 
 These beautiful sights, however, I could only enjoy for a few 
 moments, for I was soon attacked ^vith sea-sickness. I betook 
 myself to my cabin, chose an horizontal position, and abstaining 
 from all meat or drink, except white bread and red wine, soon 
 found myself pretty comfortable again. Shut out from the ex- 
 ternal world, I let the internal have full sway ; and, as a tedious 
 voyage was to be anticipated, I immediately set myself a heavy 
 task in order to while away the time profitably. Of all my papers 
 I had only brought with me the first two acts of " Tasso," -vvritten 
 in poetic prose. These two acts, as regards their plan and 
 evolution, were nearly similar to the present ones, birt, written 
 full ten years ago, had a somewhat soft and misty tone, which 
 soon disappeared, while, in accordance with my later notions, I 
 made form more predominant, and introduced more of rhythm. 
 
 Saturday, March 31, 1787. 
 The sun rose this morning from the water quite clear. About 
 seven we overtook a French vessel, ^hich had left Naples 
 two days before us, so much the better sailer was our vessel ; 
 still we had no prospect as yet of the end of our passage. 
 We were somewhat cheered by the sight of Ustica, but, im- 
 
 2g2
 
 452 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 fortunately, on our left, when we ought to have had it, like 
 Capri, on our right. Towards noon the wind became directly 
 contrary, and we did not make the least way. The sea began 
 to get rough, and every one in the ship was sick. 
 
 I kept in my usual position, and the whole piece was 
 thought over and over, and through and through again. 'ITic 
 hours passed away, and I should not have noticed how they 
 went, but for the roguish Kniep, on whose appetite the waves 
 had no influence. When, from time to time, he brought me 
 some wine and some bread, he took a mischievous delight in 
 expatiating on the excellent dinner in the cabin, the cheer- 
 fulness and good nature of our young but clever captain, and 
 on his regrets that I was unable to enjoy my share of it. So, 
 likewise, the transition from joke and merriment to qualmish- 
 ness and sickness, and the various ways in which the latter 
 manifested themselves in the diffei'ent passengers, afforded 
 him rich materials for humorous description. 
 
 At four in the afternoon the captain altered the course of 
 our vessel. The mainsails were again set, and we steered 
 direct for Ustica, behind which, to our great joy, we dis- 
 cerned the mountains of Sicily. The wind improved, and we 
 bore rapidly towards Sicily, and a few little islands appeared 
 in view. The sunset was murky, the light of heaven being 
 veiled beneath a mist. The wind was pretty fair for the 
 whole of the evening ; towards midnight the sea became very 
 
 rough. 
 
 Sunday, April 1, 1787. 
 
 About 3 in the morning a violent storm. Half asleep and 
 dreaming, I went on with the plan of my drama; in the 
 mean time there was great commotion on deck ; the sails 
 were all taken in, and the vessel pitched on the top of the 
 waves. As day broke the storm abated, and the sky cleared 
 up. Now Ustica lay right on our left. They pointed out 
 to me a large turtle swimming a great distance off; by 
 my telescope I coidd easily discern it, as a living j^oint. 
 Towards noon we were clearly able to distinguish the coast of 
 Sicily with its headlands and bays, but we had got very far 
 to the leeward, and tacked on and off. Towards mid-day we 
 came nearer to the shore. The weather being clear, and the 
 sun shining bright, we saw quite distinctly the western coast 
 from the promontory of Lilybajum to Cape Gallo,
 
 THE VOYAGE TO SICILY. 453 
 
 A shoal of dolphins attended our ship on both bows, and 
 continually shot a-head. It was amusing to watch thorn as 
 they swam along, covered by the clear transparent waves at 
 one time, and at another springing above the water, showing 
 their fins and sjjine-ridged back, with their sides playing in 
 the light from gold to green, and from green to gold. 
 
 As the land was direct on our lee, the captain lay to in a 
 bay behind Cape Gallo. Kniep failed not to seize the oppor- 
 tunity to sketch the many beautiful scenes somewhat in detail. 
 Towards sunset the captain made again for the open sea, 
 steering north-east, in order to make the heights of Palermo. 
 I ventured several times on deck, but never intermitted for a 
 moment my poetical labours ; and thus I became pretty weU 
 master of the whole piece. With a cloudy sky, a bright but 
 broken moonlight, the reflection on the sea was infinitely 
 beautiful. Paintings, in order to heighten the effect, generally 
 lead us to believe, that the reflection from the heavenly lumi- 
 naries on the water has its greatest breadth nearest to the 
 spectator, where it also possesses its greatest brilliancy. On 
 this occasion, however, the reflection was broadest at the 
 horizon, and, like a sharp pyramid, ended with sparkling 
 waves close to the ship. Duiing the night our captain again 
 frequently changed the tack. 
 
 Monday, April 2, 1787. 
 This morning, about 8 o'clock, we found ourselves over 
 against Palermo. The morning seemed to me highly delight- 
 ful. During the days that I had been shut up in my cabin, I 
 had got on pretty well Avith the plan of my drama. I felt 
 quite well now, and was able to stay on deck, and observe 
 attentively the Sicilian coast. Kniep went on sketching away, 
 and by his accurate, but rapid pencil, many a sheet of paper 
 was converted into highly valuable mementoes of our landing, 
 which, however, we stiU had to wait for. 
 
 PALERMO. 
 
 Monday, April 2, 1787. 
 By 3 o'clock p.m., we at last, after much trouble and dif- 
 ficulty, got into horbour, where a most glorious view lay
 
 464 liETTEKS T-KOM ITALY. 
 
 before us. Perfectly recovered from my sea-sickness, I enjoyed 
 it highly. The town facing north, lay at the foot of a high hill, 
 with the sun (at this time of day) shining above it. The sides of 
 the buildings which looked towards us, lay in a deep shade, 
 which, however, was clear, and lit up by the reflection from the 
 water. On our right Monte Pellegrino, with its many elegant 
 outlines, in full light ; on the left the coast, with its bays, isth- 
 muses, and headlands, stretching far away into the distance ; 
 and the most jigreeable effect was produced by the fresh green 
 of some fine trees, whose crowns, lit up from behind, swayed 
 backwards and forwards before the darl^ buildings, like great 
 masses of glow-worms. A brilliant haze gave a blueish tint 
 to all the shades. 
 
 Instead of hurrying impatiently on shore, we remained on 
 deck till we were actually forced to land ; for where could we 
 hope soon to find a position equal to this, or so favourable a 
 point of view ? 
 
 Through the singular gateway, which consists of two vast 
 pillars, which are left unconnected above, in order that the 
 tower-high car of S. Rosalia may be able to pass through, on 
 her famous festival, we were driven into the city, and alighted, 
 almost immediately, at a large hotel on our left. The host, 
 an old, decent person, long accustomed to see strangers of 
 every nation and tongue, conducted us into a large room, the 
 balcony of which commanded a view of the sea, with the 
 roadstead, where we recognised our ship, Monte Rosalia, and 
 the beach, and were enabled to form an idea of our where- 
 abouts. Highly satisfied with the position of our room, we 
 did not for some time observe that, at the farther end of it, 
 was an alcove, slightly raised, and concealed by curtains, in 
 which was a most spacious bed, with a magnificent canopy 
 and curtains of silk, in perfect keeping with the other stately, 
 but old fashioned, furniture of our apartment. This display 
 of splendom- made me uneasy; so, as my custom was, I 
 wished to make an agreement with my host. To this the old 
 man replied that conditions were unnecessary, and he trusted 
 I should have nothing to complain of in him. We were also 
 at liberty to make use of the ante-room, which was next to 
 our apartment, and cool, air)', and agreeable from its many 
 balconies. 
 
 We amused om-selves with the endless variety of views,
 
 SICILY PALERMO. 455 
 
 and endeavoured to sketch them one by one in pencil, or in 
 coloiirs, for here the eye fell upon a plentiful harvest for 
 the artist. 
 
 In the evening the lovely moonlight attracted us once more 
 to the roadstead, and even after our return riveted us for 
 some time on the balcony. The light was peculiar, — the 
 repose and loveliness of the scene were extreme. 
 
 Palermo, Tuesday, April 3. 1787. 
 
 Our first business was to examine the city, which is easy 
 enough to survey, but difficult to know ; easy, because a street 
 a mile long, from the lower to the vipper gate, from the sea 
 to the momitain, intersects it, and is itself again crossed, 
 nearly in its middle, by another. Whatever lies on these 
 two great lines is easily found; but in the inner streets a 
 stranger soon loses himself, and without a guide will never 
 exti'icate himself from their labyrinths. 
 
 Towards evening our attention was directed to the long 
 line of carriages, (of the well-known build,) in which the 
 principal persons of the neighbourhood were taking their 
 evening di'ive from the city to the beach, for the sake of the 
 fresh air, amusement, and perhaps also for intrigue. 
 
 It was full moon about two hours before midnight, and the 
 evening was in consequence indescribably glorious. The 
 northerly position of Palermo produces a very strange eifect ; 
 as the city and shore come between the sun and the harbour, 
 its reflection is never observed on the Avaves. On this account, 
 though it was one of the very brightest of days yesterday, I 
 foimd the sea of a deep blue colour, solemn, and oppressive ; 
 whereas, at Naples, after noon-day, it gets brighter and 
 brighter, and glitters with more aiiy lightness, and to a 
 greater distance. 
 
 Kniep has to-day left me to make my pilgimages and obser- 
 vations by myself, in order that he might accurately sketch 
 the outhne of Monte PeUegrino, the most beautiful headland 
 in the whole world. 
 
 Palermo, April 3, 1787. 
 Here again I must put a few things together, something 
 in the way of an appendix, and with the carelessness of 
 familiarity.
 
 456 LETTERS PROM ITALY. 
 
 At sunset of the 29th of March we set sail for Naples, 
 and at last, after a passage of four days and three hours, cast 
 anchor in the harbour of Palermo. The little diary which 
 I enclose, wiU give an account of ourselves and oui- for- 
 tunes. I never entered upon a journey so calmly as I did 
 this, and never have I had a quieter time of it than during 
 our passage, which a constant headwind has imusually pro- 
 longed, even though I ^lassed the time chiefly on my bed, in 
 a close little berth, to which I was obUged to keep during 
 the first day, in consequence of a violent attack of sea- 
 sickness. Now my thoughts pass over towards you; for if 
 ever anything has exercised a decided influence on my mind, 
 this voyage has certainly done so. 
 
 Pie who has never seen himself surrovmded on all sides by 
 the sea. can never possess an idea of the world, and of his 
 own relation to it. As a landscape painter, this great simple 
 line has given me entirely new ideas. 
 
 During our voyage we had, as the diary records, many 
 changes, and, on a small scale, experienced all a sailors for- 
 tunes. However, the safety and convenience of the packet- 
 boat cannot be sufiiciently commended. Om* captain is a 
 very brave and an exti'emely handsome man. My fellow- 
 passengers consisted of a whole theatrical ti'oop, well man- 
 nered, tolerable, and agreeable. My artist, who accomjDanies 
 me, is a merry true-hearted fellow. In order to shorten the 
 weary hours of the passage, he has explained to me all the 
 mechanical part of aquarell, or painting in water colours, — 
 an art which has been carried to a great height of perfection 
 in Italy. He thoroughly understands the effect of particular 
 colours in effecting certain tones, to produce which, without 
 knowing the secret, one might go on mixing for ever. I had, 
 it is true, learned a good deal of it in Rome, but never before 
 so systematically. The artists must have studied and perfected 
 the art in a country like Italy or this. No words can express 
 the hazy brilliancy which hung around the coasts, as on a 
 most beautiful noon we nearcd Palermo. He who has once 
 seen it will never forget it. Now, at last, I can understand 
 Claude Lorraine, and can cherish a hope that hereafter, in the 
 north, I shall be able to produce, from my soul, at least a 
 faint idea of these glorious abodes. Oh ! that only all little- 
 ness had departed from it as entirely as the little charm of
 
 SICILY PALERMO. 457 
 
 thatched roofs has vanished from among my ideas of what a 
 drawing should be. We shall see what this "Queen of 
 Islands" can do. 
 
 No words can express the welcome — with its fresh green 
 mulberry trees, evergreen oleanders, and hedges of citron, 
 &c. In the open gardens you see large beds of ranunculuses 
 and anemones. The air is mild, warm, and fragrant ; the 
 wind refreshing. The full moon, too, rose from behind a 
 promontory, and shone upon the sea ; — and this joyous 
 scene after being tossed about four days and nights on the 
 waves ! 
 
 Forgive me if, with a stump of a pen and the Indian-ink 
 my fellow-traveller uses for his sketches, I scribble down 
 these remarks. I send them to you as a faint lisp iug murmur ; 
 since I am preparing for all that love me another record 
 of these, my happy hours. What it is to be I say not; 
 and when you will receive it, that also it is out of my power 
 to tell. 
 
 Palermo, Tuesday, April 3. 
 
 This letter must, as far as possible, impart to you. my 
 dearest friends, a high treat ; it is intended to convey to you 
 a description of an uni-ivalled bay, embracing a vast mass of 
 waters. Beginning from the east, where a Hattish headland 
 runs far out into the sea, it is dotted with many rugged, 
 beautifully-shaped, wood-crowned rocks, until it reaches the 
 fishing-huts of the suburbs ; then the town itself, whose fore- 
 most houses (and among them our own hotel) all look 
 towards the harbour and to the great gate by which we 
 entered. 
 
 Then it stretches westwards, and passing the usual landing- 
 place, where vessels of smaller burden can lie to, comes next 
 to what is properly the harbour, near the Mole, which is the 
 station of all larger vessels ; and then, at the western point, 
 to protect the shipping, rises Monte PcUegrino, with its 
 beatiful contour, after leaving between it and the mainland a 
 lovely fertile valley, which at its other end again reaches 
 the sea. 
 
 Kniep sketched away. I took, with my mind's eye, the 
 plan of the country — {ich schematisirte) — with great delight; 
 and now, glad to have reached home again, we feel neither
 
 458 XETTEKS FKOM ITAIT 
 
 strength nor energy to tell a long story, aiid to go into par- 
 ticulars. Our endeavours must, therefore, be reserved for a 
 futui'e occasion ; and this sheet must serve to convince you of 
 our inability adequately to seize these objects, or rather of 
 oui' presumption in thinking to grasp and master them in so 
 short a time. 
 
 Palermo, Wednesday April 4, 1787. 
 
 In the afternoon we paid a visit to the fertile and delight- 
 ful valley at the foot of the Southern Mountains, running by 
 Palermo,, and thiough vi^hich the Oreto meanders. Here, 
 too, is a call for the painter's eye, and a practised hand to 
 convey an idea of it. Kniep, however, hastily seized an 
 excellent point of view at a spot where the pent-up water 
 was dashing down from a half- broken weii-, and was shaded by 
 a lovely group of trees, behind which an uninterrupted prospect 
 opened up the valley, affording a view of several farm 
 buildings. 
 
 Beavitiful spring weather, and a budding luxuriance, diffused 
 over the whole valley a refreshing feeling of peace, which om* 
 stupid guide marred by his ill-timed erudition, telling us that 
 in former days, Hannibal had fought a battle here, and cir- 
 cumstantially detailing all the dreadful feats of war which had 
 been perpetrated on the spot. In no friendly mood I re- 
 proved him for thus fatally calling up again such departed 
 spectres. It was bad enough, I said, that from time to time 
 the crops should be trodden down, if not by elephants, yet by 
 men and horses. At any rate, it was not right to scare away 
 the peaceful di'cams of imagination by reviving such tumults 
 and horrors. 
 
 The guide was greatly surprised that I could, on such a spot, 
 despise classical reminiscences ; and I, too, could not make 
 him imderstand how greatly such a mingling of the past with 
 the present displeased me. 
 
 Stdl more singular did our guide deem me, when at all the 
 shallow places, of which many were left quite dry by the stream, 
 I searched for pebbles, and carried off with me specimens of 
 each sort. I again found it difficult to make him understand 
 that there was no readier way of forming an idea of a moim- 
 tainous district like that before us, than by examining the 
 natm-e of the stones which are washed down by the streams,
 
 SICILY PALEEMO. 459 
 
 and that in so doing, the purpose was to acquire a right 
 notion of those eternally classic heights of the ancient world. 
 
 And, indeed, my gains from this stream were large enough : 
 I carried away nearly forty specimens, which, however, may 
 be comprised under a few classes. Most of these were of a 
 species of rock, which, in one respect, might be regarded as a 
 sort of jasper or hornblende ; in another, looked like clay-slate. 
 I found some pebbles rounded, others of a rhomboidal shape, 
 others of irregular forms, and of various colours. Moreover, 
 many varieties of the primeval limestone, not a few specimens 
 of breccia, of which the substratum was lime, and holding 
 jasper, or modifications of limestone. Rubbles of muschelkalk 
 also were not wanting. 
 
 "»• 
 
 The horses here are fed on barley, chaff, {hacherling) and 
 clover. In spring they give them the green barley, in order to 
 refresh them — per rinfrescar is the phrase. As there are no 
 meadows here, they have no hay. On the hill-sides there 
 are some pasture-lands, and also in the corn-fields, as a third 
 is always left fallow. They keep but few sheep, and these 
 are of a breed from Barbary. On the whole they have more 
 mules than horses, because the hot food suits the former better 
 than the latter. 
 
 The plain on which Palermo lies, as well as the districts of Ai 
 Colli, which lie without the city, and a part also of Baggaria, 
 have for their basis the muschelkalk, of which the city is built. 
 There are, for this pm-pose, extensive quarries of it in the 
 neighbourhood. In one place, near Monte Pellegrino, they are 
 more than fifty feet deep. The lower layers are of a whiter hue. 
 In it are found many petrified corals and other shell-fish, but 
 principally great scallops. The upper stratum is mixed with 
 red marl, and contains but few, if any, fossils. lUght above it 
 lies the red marl, of which, however, the layer is not very stiff. 
 
 Monte Pellegrino, however, rises out of all this ; it is a pri- 
 mary limestone, has many hollows and fissm-es, which, 
 although very iiTcgular, when closely observed are found to 
 follow the order of the strata. The stone is close, and rings 
 when struck.
 
 460 LETTERS FJIOM ITALY. 
 
 Palermo, Thursday, April 5, 1787. 
 
 "We have gone carefully through the city. The style of 
 architecture resembles for the most part that'of Naples ; but 
 the public buildings, for instance the fountains, are still further 
 removed from good taste. Here there is no artistic mind to 
 regulate the public works ; the edifices owe both their shape 
 and existence to chance accidents. A fountain, which is the 
 admiration of the whole island, would, perhaps, never have 
 existed, had not Sicily fiu-nished a beautiful variegated mar- 
 ble, and had not a sculptor, well practised in animal shapes 
 happened to be in favour precisely at the time. It would be 
 a difficult matter to describe this fountain. In a moderately- 
 sized site stands a round piece of masonry, not quite a staff 
 high [Stock hocJi). The socle, the wall, and the cornice are of 
 variegated marble. In the wall are several niches in a row, 
 from which animals of all kinds in white marble, are looking 
 with stretched-out necks. Horses, lions, camels, and elephants, 
 are interchanged one with another; and one scarcely ex- 
 pects to find, within the circle of this menagerie, a fountain, 
 to which, through four openings, marble steps lead you down 
 to draw from the water, which flows in rich abundance. 
 
 The same nearly may be said of the churches, in which even 
 the Jesuits' love of show and finery is surpassed — but not 
 from design or plan, but by accident — ^just as artist after 
 artist, whether sculptor or carver, gilder, lackerer, or worker 
 in marble chose, without taste or rule, to display on each 
 vacant spot his own abilities. 
 
 Amidst all this, however, one cannot fail to recognize a 
 certain talent in imitating natural objects ; for instance, the 
 heads of the animals around the fountains are very weU 
 executed. By this means it is, in truth, that the admiration of 
 the multitude is excited, whose artistic gratification consists 
 chiefly in comparing the imitation with its living prototype. 
 
 Towards evening I made a merry acquaintance, as I 
 entered the house of a small dealer in the Long Street, in 
 order to purchase some trifles. As I stood before the win- 
 dow to look at the wares, a slight breeze arose, which 
 eddying along the whole street, at last distributed through 
 all the windows and doors the immense cloud of dust which 
 it had raised. " By all the saints," I cried, "whence comes 
 all the dust of your town — is there no helping it ? In its
 
 SICILT PALEKMO. 461 
 
 length and beauty, this street vies with any in the Corso 
 in Rome. On both sides a fine pavement, Avhich each stall 
 and shop- holder keeps cleari by interminable sweepino-, 
 but brushes everything into the middle of the street, 
 which is, in consequence, so much the dirtier, and with 
 every breath of wind sends back to you the filth which 
 has just before been swept into the roadway. In Naples busy 
 donkeys carry ofi* day by day the rubbish to the gardens and 
 farms. \Miy should you not here contrive and establish some 
 similar regulation?" 
 
 " Things with us are as they are," he replied ; " we throw 
 everything out of the house, and it rots before the door ; you 
 see here horse-dung and filth of all kinds — it lies there and 
 dries, and returns to us again in the shajse of dust. Against 
 it we are taking precautions all day long. But look, our 
 pretty little and ever-busy brooms, worn out at last, only 
 go to increase the heap of filth before our doors." 
 
 And oddly enough it was actually so. They had nothing 
 but very little besoms of palm-branches, which, slightly 
 altered, might have been really useful ; but as it was, they 
 broke off easily, and the stumps were lying by thousands in 
 the streets. To my repeated questioning, whether there was 
 no board or regulations to prevent all this ; he replied, 
 " A story is current among the people that those whose duty 
 it was to provide for the cleansing of our streets, being men of 
 great power and influence, could not be compelled to disburse 
 the money on its lawful objects ; and besides that there was 
 also the strange fact that certain parties feared that if the 
 dirty straw and dung were swept away, every one would see 
 how badly the pavement beneath was laid down. And so 
 the dishonesty of a second body would be thereby exposed. 
 "All this, however," he remarked, with a most humorous 
 expression, " is merely the interpretation which the ill-dis- 
 posed put upon it." For his part, he was of the opinion of 
 those who maintained that the nobles preserved this soft 
 litter for their carriages, in order that, A\-hen they take theii* 
 drive for amusement in the evening, they might ride at ease 
 over the elastic ground. And as the man was now in the 
 humour, he joked away at many of the abuses of the police, — 
 a consolatory proof to me that man has always humoui" cnotagh 
 to make merry with what he cannot help.
 
 462 LETTEES FKOM ITAXT. 
 
 S. Rosalia, the patron saint of Palermo, is so universally 
 known, from the description which Brydone has given of her 
 festival, that it must assuredly be agreeable to my friends 
 to read some accovmt of the place and the spot where she si 
 most particiUarly worshipped. 
 
 Monte Pellegrino, a vast mass of rocks, of which the 
 breadth is greater than the height, lies on the north-west 
 extremity of the Bay of Palermo. Its beautiful form admits 
 not of being described by words ; a most excellent view of it 
 may be seen in the Voyage Pittoresque de la Sicile. It con- 
 sists of a gray limestone of the eai-lier epoch. The rocks are 
 quite barren, not a tree nor a bush will grow on them ; even 
 the more smooth and level portions are but barely covered 
 with grasses or mosses. 
 
 In a cavern of this moimtain, the bones of the saint were 
 discovered, at the beginning of the last century, and brought 
 to Palermo. The presence of them delivered the city fi-om a 
 pestilence, and ever since S. Rosalia has been the Patron 
 Saint of the people. Chapels have been built in her honour, 
 splendid festivals have been instituted. 
 
 The pious and devout frequently made pilgrimages to the 
 mountain ; and in consequence a road has been made to it, 
 which, like an ancient aqueduct, rests on arches and columns, 
 and ascends zigzag between the rocks. 
 
 The place of worship is far more suitable to the humility of 
 the saint who retired thither, than are the splendid festivities 
 which have been instituted in honoxu: of her total renuncia- 
 tion of the world. And perhaps the whole of Chi-istendom, 
 which now, for eighteen hundred years, has based its riches, 
 pomps, and festival amusements, on the memory of its first 
 founders and most zealous confessors, cannot point out a holy 
 spot which has been adorned and rendered venerable in so 
 eminent and delightful a way. 
 
 When you have ascended the mountain, you proceed to the 
 comer of a rock, over against which there rises a high wall of 
 stone. On this the Church and the monastery are very finely 
 situated. 
 
 The exterior of the chiu-ch has nothing promising or in- 
 viting ; you open its door without any high expectation, but 
 on entering are ravished with wonder. You find yourself in 
 a vast vestibule, which extends to the whole breadth of the
 
 PALERMO S. ROSALIA. 463 
 
 church, and is open towards the nave. You see here the 
 usual vessel of holy water and some confessionals. The nave 
 is an open space, which on the right is bounded by the 
 native rock, and on the left by the continuation of the vesti- 
 bule. It is paved with flat stones on a slight inclination, in 
 order that the rain water may nm off. A small weU stands 
 nearly in the centre. 
 
 The cave itself has been transformed into the choir, without, 
 however, any of its rough natural shape being altered. ^ De- 
 scending a few steps, close upon them stands the choristers' 
 desk with the choir books, and on each side are the seats of 
 the choristers. The whole is lighted by the daylight, which 
 is admitted from the covu-t or nave. Deep within, in the 
 dark recesses of the cave, stands the high-altar. 
 
 As abeady stated, no change has been made in the cave ; 
 only, as the rocks drop incessantly with water, it was necessary 
 to keep the place dry. This has been effected by means of tin 
 tubes, which are fastened to every projection of the rock, and 
 are in various ways connected together. As they are broad 
 above and come to a narrow edge below, and are painted of 
 a duU green colour, they give to the rock an appearance of 
 being overgrown with a species of cactus. The Avater is con- 
 ducted into a clear reservoir, out of which it is taken by the 
 feithful as a remedy and preventative for every kind of ill. 
 
 As I was narrowly observing all this, an ecclesiastic came 
 up to me and asked whether I was a Genoese, and wished a 
 mass or so to be said ? I replied upon this that I had come 
 to Palermo with a Genoese, who would to-morrow, as it was 
 a festival, come up to the shrine ; but, as one of us must 
 always be at home, I had come up to day in order to look 
 about me. Upon this he observed, I was at perfect liberty 
 to look at everything at my leisure, and to perform my devo- 
 tions. In particidar he pointed out to me a little altar which 
 stood on the left as especially holy, and then left me. 
 
 Through the openings of a large trelliss work of lattice, 
 lamps appeared burning before an altar. I knelt dovni close 
 to the gratings and peeped through. Further in, however, 
 another lattice of brass wire was dra%vn across, so that one 
 looked as it were through gauze at the objects within. By 
 the light of some duU lamps I caught sight of a lovely female 
 form.
 
 464 XETTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 She lay seemingly in a state of ecstacy — the eyes half- 
 closed, the head leaning carelessly on her right hand, which 
 was adorned with many rings. I could not sufficiently dis- 
 cern her face, but it seemed to be peculiarly charming. Her 
 robe was made of gilded metal, which imitated excellently a 
 te.xture wi-ought with gold. The head and hands were of 
 white marble. I cannot say that the whole was in the lofty 
 style, still it was executed so naturally and so pleasingly that 
 one almost fancied it must breathe and move. A little angel 
 stands near her, and with a bunch of lilies in his hand ap- 
 pears to be fanning her. 
 
 In the meanwhile the clergy had come into the cave, taken 
 their places, and began to chant the Vespers. 
 
 I took my seat right before the altar, and listened to them 
 for a while ; then I again approached the altar, knelt down 
 and attempted to obtain a still more distinct view of the 
 beautifid image. I resigned myself without reserve to the 
 charming illusion of the statue and the locality. 
 
 The chant of the priests now resounded thi-ough the 
 cave ; the water was trickling into the reservoir near the 
 altar ; while the over-hanging rocks of the vestibule — the 
 proper nave of the church — shut in the scene. There was a 
 deep stillness in this waste spot, whose inhabitants seemed to 
 be all dead — a singular neatness in a wild cave : the tinsel 
 and tawdry pomp of the Roman Catholic ceremonial, especially 
 as it is vividly decked out in Sicily, had here reverted to its 
 original simplicity. The illusion produced by the statue of 
 the fair sleeper — which had a charm even for the most 
 practised eye : — enough, it was ^^'ith the greatest difficulty that 
 I tore myself from the spot, and it was late at night before 1 
 got back to Palermo. 
 
 Palenno, Saturday, April 7, 1787. 
 In the public gardens, which are close to the roadstead, I 
 have passed some most delightful hours. It is the most 
 wonderful place in the world. Regularly laid out by art, it 
 still looks a fairy spot ; planted but a short time ago, it yet 
 transports you into ancient times. Green edgings sm-round 
 beds of the choicest exotics ; citron-espaliers arch over low- 
 arboured walks ; high walls of the oleander, decked with 
 thousands of its red carnation-like blossoms, dazzle the eye.
 
 SICILY PALERMO. 465 
 
 Trees wholly strange and unknown to me, as yet without 
 leaf, and probably, therefore, natives of a still warmer climate, 
 spread out their strange looking branches. A raised seat at the 
 end of the level space gives you a survey of these curiously 
 mixed rarities, and leads the eye at last to great basins iu 
 which gold and silver fish swim about with their pretty 
 movements ; now hiding themselves beneath moss-covered 
 reeds ; now darting in troops to catch the bit of bread which 
 has tempted them from their hiding place. All the plants 
 exhibit tints of green which I am not used to ; yellower and 
 bluer than are found with us. What however lent to every 
 object the rarest of charms was a strong halo which hung 
 around everything alike, and produced the following singular 
 effect : objects which were only distant a few steps from 
 others, were distinguished from them by a decided tint of 
 light blue, so that at last the distinctive colom-s of the most 
 remote were almost merged in it, or at least assumed to the 
 eye a decidedly strong blue tint. 
 
 The very singular effect which such a halo imparts to dis- 
 tinct objects, vessels, and headlands, is remarkable enough to 
 an artistic eye ; it assists it accurately to distinguish, and, 
 indeed, to measure distances. It makes, too, a walk on the 
 heights extremely charming. One sees Nature no more ; 
 nothing but pictures ; just as if a painter of exquisite taste had 
 aiTanged them in a gallery. 
 
 But these wonderful gardens have made a deep and lasting 
 impression on my mind. The black waves on the northern 
 horizon, as they broke on the irregular points of the bay — and 
 even the smell of the sea — all seemed to recall to my imagina- 
 tion, as well as my memory, the happy island of the Phccacians. 
 I hastened to purchase a Homer, and began to read this book 
 with the highest delight, making an impromptu translation of 
 it for the benefit of Kniep, who had well deserved by his 
 diligent exertions this day some agreeable refreshment over a 
 glass of wine. 
 
 Palermo, April 8, 1787. 
 " {Easter Day.) 
 
 The morning rejoicings in the blissful Resurrection of the 
 Lord commenced with break of day. Crackers, wild-fii-es, 
 Vol. II. 2 h
 
 466 I,ETIER3 FflOM IXAXT 
 
 rockets, serpents, &c., were let off by wholesale in front of the 
 chui-ches, as the worshippers crowded in at the open doors. 
 The chiming of beUs, the pealing of organs, the chanting of pro- 
 cessions, and of the choirs of priests who came to meet them, 
 were enough to stim. the eais of aU who had not been used to 
 such noisy worship. 
 
 The early mass was scarcely ended, when two well-dressed 
 com-iers of the Viceroy visited our hotel, with the double 
 object of offering to aU strangers his Highness's congratula- 
 tions on the festival, and to exact a douceiu* in return. As I 
 was specially honoui-ed \vith an invitation to dinner, my gift 
 was, of com'se, expected to be considerable. 
 
 After spending the morning in visiting the different chmxhes, 
 I proceeded to the Viceroy's palace, which is situated at the 
 upper end of the city. As I arrived rather early, I found 
 the grand saloon still empty ; there was only a Little Hvely 
 man, who came up to me, and whom I soon discovered to be a 
 Maltese. 
 
 \Vhen he had learnt that I was a German, he asked if I 
 could give him any account of Erfiu-t, where he had spent a 
 very pleasant time on a short visit. 
 
 As he asked me about the family of the Dackerodes, 
 and about the Coadjutor von Dalberg, I was able to give 
 some account of them, at which he seemed much delighted, 
 and inquired after other people of Thuringia. With consi- 
 derable interest he then inquii-ed about Weimar. " And 
 how," he asked, " is the person, who, full of youth and vivacity 
 when I was there, was the life of society? I have forgotten 
 his name, but he is the author of ' Werther.'" 
 
 After a little pause, as if for the sake of tasking my me- 
 mory, I answered, " I am the person whom you are inquir- 
 ing about." With the most visible signs of astonishment, 
 he sprung back, exclaiming, " There must have been a great 
 change then!" "0 yes,' I rejoined, "between Palermo 
 and Weimar I have gone through many a change." 
 
 At tjiis moment the Viceroy and suite entered the apart- 
 ment. His carriage evinced that graceful freedom which 
 became so distinguished a personage. He could not refrain 
 from laughing at the Maltese, as' he went on expressing his 
 astonishment to see me here. At table I sat by the side of the 
 Viceroy, who inquired into the objects of my journey, and
 
 SICILY — PALERMO. 467 
 
 assured me that he woiild give orders that everything in 
 Palermo should be open to my inspection, and that every 
 possible facility should be given me during my tour through 
 Sicily. 
 
 Palermo, Monday, April 9, 1787. 
 
 This whole day has been taken up with the stupidities of 
 the Prince PaUagonia, whose follies are thoroughly different 
 from what one would form an idea of either by reading or 
 hearing of them. For, with the slightest love of truth, he who 
 wishes to furnish an account of the absurd, gets into a dilemma ; 
 he is anxious to give an idea of it, and so makes it something, 
 whereas, in reality, it is a nothing which seeks to pass for 
 something. And here I must premise another general reflec- 
 tion, viz., that neither the most tasteless, nor the most excel- 
 lent production comes entirely and immediately from a single 
 indi^•idual or a single age, but that with a little attention any 
 one may trace its pedigree and descent. 
 
 The fountain already described in Palermo belongs to the 
 forefathers of the Pallagonian foUies, only that the latter, 
 in their own soil and domain, develope themselves with the 
 greatest fi-eedom, and on the largest scale. 
 
 When in these parts a country scat is built, it is usually 
 placed in the middle of a whole property, and therefore, in 
 order to reach the princely mansion you have to pass through 
 cultivated fields, kitchen gardens, and similar rural conveni- 
 ences, for these southerns show far more of economy than we 
 northmen, who often waste a good strip of rich land on a park, 
 which, with its barren shrubs, can only charm the eye. But 
 here it is the fashion to build two walls, between which you 
 pass to the castle, without knowing in the least what is doing 
 on your right and left. This passage begins generally with a 
 grand portico, and sometimes with a vaulted hall, and ends 
 with the mansion itself But, in order that the eye may not 
 be entirely without relief between these bye walls, they are 
 generally arched over, and ornamented with scrolls, and also 
 with pedestals, on which, here and there, a vase is placed. 
 The flat sm-faces are plastered, divided into compartments, and 
 painted. The court is formed by a circle of one- storied 
 cabins, in which work-people of all sorts reside, while the 
 quadrangular castle towers over all. 
 
 2 H 2
 
 468 liEITERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 This is the sort of building which is here traditionally 
 adopted, and -which probably was the old form, when the 
 father of the present prince rebuilt the castle, not in the best, 
 but still in tolerable taste. But the present possessor, without 
 abandoning the general featui'es of this style, gave free course 
 to his humour and passion for the most ill-shapen and taste- 
 less of erections. One would do him too much honour by 
 giving him credit for even one spark of taste. 
 
 We entered, therefore, the great hall, which stands at the 
 beginning of the property, and found om'selves in an octagonal 
 room, of a breadth altogether disproportioned to its height. Four 
 vast giants with modern sjDatterdashes, which had just been 
 huttoned on, support the cornice, on which, directly meeting 
 the eye as you enter, is a representation of the Holy Trinity. 
 
 The passage to the castle is broader than usual, the wall 
 being converted into one continuous high socle ; from which 
 basement the strangest groups possible reach to the top, 
 while in the spaces between them several vases are placed. 
 The ugliness of these unshapely figures, (the bungling work 
 of the most ordinary mason,) is increased by their having been 
 cut out of a very crumbly muscheltufa, although, perhaps, 
 a better material woidd have made the badness of the form 
 still more striking to the eye. I used the word "groups" a 
 moment ago, but I have employed a false term, and most 
 inappropriate one for anything here. For they are mere 
 juxtapositions, determined by no thought, but by mere arbi- 
 trary caprice. In each case three form the ornament of a 
 square pedestal, theii- bases being so arranged as to fill up the 
 space by their various postures. The principal groups have 
 generally two figures which occupy the chief face of the 
 pedestal, and then two are yet wanting to fill up the back 
 part of the pedestal ; one of a moderate size generally repre- 
 sents a shepherd or shepherdess — a cavalier or a lady — a 
 dancing ape or a hound. Still there is a vacant spot on the 
 pedestal ; this is generally held by a dwarf — as, indeed, in 
 dull jokes, this sort of gentry usually play a conspicuous part. 
 
 That we may not omit any of the elements of Prince 
 Pallagonia's folly, we give you the accompanying catalogue. 
 Men : Beggars, male and female, Spanish men and women, 
 Moors, Turks, hunchbacks, cripples of all sorts, strolling 
 musicians, pulciueUos, soldiers in ancient miiforms, gods,
 
 PALERMO — CASTLE OF COUNT PALLAGONIA. 4G9 
 
 goddesses, gentlemen in old French costumes, soldiers with 
 cartouche boxes and gaiters, mythological personages (with 
 most ridiculous companions, Achilles and Charon, for instance, 
 wdth Punch). Animals (merely parts of them) : Heads of 
 horses on human bodies, mis-shapen apes, lots of dragons and 
 serpents, all sorts of feet under figures of all kinds, double- 
 headed monsters, and creatures with heads that do not belong 
 to them. Vases : All sorts of monsters and scrolls, which 
 below end in the hollows and bases of vases. 
 
 Just let any one think of such figures furnished by whole- 
 sale, produced without thought or sense, and arranged without 
 choice or purjjose — only let him conceive to himself this 
 socle, these pedestals and unshapely objects in an endless 
 series, and he will be able to sympathize with the disagreeable 
 feelings which must seize every one whose miserable fate 
 condemns him to run the gauntlet of such absurdities. 
 
 We now approach the castle, and are received into a semi- 
 circular fore-court. The chief wall before us, through which 
 is the entrance-door, is in the castle style. Here we find an 
 Eg}^tian figure, built into the wall, a fountain without water, 
 a monument, vases stuck around in no sort of order, statues de- 
 signedly laid on their noses. Next we came to the castle 
 court, and found the usual round area, enclosed with little 
 cottages, distorted into small semicircles, in order, forsooth, 
 that there might be no want of variety. 
 
 The ground is, for the most part, overgrown with grass. 
 Here, as in the neighbourhood of a chm-ch in ruins, are marble 
 urns with strange sci'olls and foliations, collected by his father ; 
 dwarfs and other abortions of the later epoch, for which, as yet 
 fitting places have not been found ; one even comes upon an 
 arbour, propped up with ancient vases, and stone scrolls of 
 various shapes. 
 
 The absui'dities produced by such want of judgment ana 
 taste, however, are strikingly instanced by the fact, that the 
 window sills in these cottages arc, without exception, oblique, 
 and lean to one side or the other, so as to offend and violate all 
 sense of the level and perpendicular, which arc so indispensable 
 in the human mind, and fonn the foundation of all architectural 
 propriety. And then, again, the edges of all the roofs are em- 
 bellished with hydras and little busts, with choirs of monkeys 
 playing music, and similar conceits. Dragons alternate with
 
 470 I/ETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 deities : an Atlas, who sustains not the mundane sphere, but an 
 empty wine-barrel ! 
 
 One hopes to escape from all this by entering the castle, 
 which, ha\dng been buUt by the father, presents relatively 
 a more rational appearance when \'iewed fi'om the exterior. 
 But in vain, for at no great distance from the door, one 
 stumbles upon the laurel- crowned head of a Roman emperor 
 on the body of a dwarf, who is sitting astride on a dolphin. 
 
 Now, in the castle itself, of which the exterior gives hope 
 of, at least, a tolerable interior, the madness of the Prince 
 begins again to rave. Many of the seats have lost their legs, 
 so that no one can sit upon them ; and if some appear to pro- 
 mise a resting-place, the Chamberlain warns you against them, 
 as having sharp prickles beneath their satin-covered cushions. 
 In all the corners are candelabras of porcelain china, which, 
 on a nearer view, you discover to be cemented together 
 out of different bowls, cups, saucers, &c., &c. Not a cor- 
 ner but some whim peeps out of it. Even the un- 
 equalled prospect over the promontory into the sea is spoiled 
 by coloured glass, which, by its false lights, gives either a 
 cold or a fiery tint to the neighbom'ing scenes. I must, also, 
 mention a cabinet, which is inlaid with old gold frames, cut 
 in pieces. All the hundred-fold car\ings, all the endless 
 varieties of ancient and modern, more or less dust-stained 
 and time-injured, gilding, closely huddled together, cover 
 all the walls, and give you the idea of a miniature lumber- 
 room. 
 
 To describe the chapel alone, would require a volume. 
 Here one finds the solution of the whole foUy, which could 
 never have reached such a pitch in any but a bigoted mind. 
 How many monstrous creations of a false and misled devotion 
 are here to be found, I must leave you to guess for yourself. 
 However, I cannot refrain from mentioning the most outrageous : 
 a carved crucifix is fastened flat to the roof, painted after 
 nature, lackered, and gilded ; into' the navel of the figure, 
 attached to the cross, a hook is screwed, and from the latter 
 hangs a chain, which is fastened to the head of a man who, 
 in a kneeling and praying posture, is suspended in the air, 
 and, like all the other figures in the church, is painted and 
 lackered. In all probability it is intended to serve as a type 
 of the owner's unceasing devotion.
 
 SICILY — PALERMO, 471 
 
 Moreover, the house is not finished internally. A saloon, 
 built by the father, and intended to be decorated with rich and 
 varied ornaments, but not tricked out in a false and offensive 
 taste, is still incomplete : so that, it would seem, even the 
 boundless madness of the possessor is at a stand still. 
 
 Kjiiep's artistic feeling was almost driven to desperation in 
 this mad-house ; and, for the first time in my life, I found him 
 quite impatient. He hurried me away, when I wished to 
 take a note of, and to perpetuate the memory of these mon- 
 strous absurdities, one by one. Good-naturedly enough, he 
 at last took a sketch of one of these compositions, which did, at 
 least, form a kind of group. It represents a woman with a 
 horse's head, sitting on a stool, and playing at cards, with a 
 cavalier, dressed, as to his lower extremities, in the old 
 fashion, while his gray head is ornamented with a large wig 
 and a cro-wTi. The statue reminded me of the 'arms of the 
 house of Pallagonia, — a satyr, holding up a mirror befo7-e a 
 woman with a horse's head, which, even after all the strange 
 follies of its present head, seems to me highly singular. 
 
 Palermo, Tuesday, April 10, 1787. 
 
 To-day we took a drive up the mountains to Monreale, — along 
 a glorious road, which was laid down by an abbot of this clois- 
 ter, in the times of its opulence and wealth : broad, of easy 
 ascent, trees here and there, springs, and dripping wells, 
 decked out with ornaments and scrolls, — somewhat Pallagonian 
 in style — ^but still, in spite of all that, refreshing to both man 
 and beast. 
 
 The monastery of S. Martin, which lies on the height, is a 
 respectable building. One bachelor alone, as we see in the 
 case of Prince Pallagonia, has seldom produced any thing 
 rational ; but several together, on the other hand, have 
 effected the greatest works, such as churches and monas- 
 teries. But perhaps these spiritual fraternities produced so 
 much, simply because, beyond most fathers of a family, they 
 could reckon with certainty on a numerous posterity. 
 
 The monks readily permitted us to view thcii- collection of 
 antiques and natural objects. They contained many excellent 
 specimens of both. Our attention was particularly fixed by 
 a medallion, with the Jic/ure of a yoimg goddess, which must
 
 472 LETTEKS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 excite tlie rapture of every beholder. The good monks would 
 willingly have given us a copy, but there was nothing 
 within reach which would do to make a mould. 
 
 After they had exhibited to us all their treasures, — not 
 without entering on an unfavorable comparison of theii* pre- 
 sent with their former condition, — they led us into a small 
 but pleasant saloon, from the balcony of which one enjoyed a 
 lovely prospect. Here covers were laid for us alone, and we had 
 a very excellent dinner to om-selves. When the dessert was 
 served, the abbot and the senior monks entered, and took 
 theii' seats. They remained nearly half an horn-, dm-ing 
 which time we had to answer many questions. We took a 
 most friendly farewell of them ; the younger brethren accom- 
 panied us once more to the rooms where the collections were 
 kept, and at last to our carriage. 
 
 We drove* home with very different feelings from what we 
 did yesterday. To-day we had to regret a noble institution, 
 which was falling with time ; while, on the other hand, a most 
 tasteless undertaking had a constant supply of wealth for its 
 support. 
 
 The road to S. Martin ascends a hill of the earlier lime- 
 stone formation. The rock is quarried and broken, and burnt 
 into lime, which is very white. For burning the stone they 
 make use of a long coarse sort of grass, which is dried in 
 bundles. Here too it is that the calorex is produced. Even on 
 the most precipitous heights lies a red clay of alluvial origin, 
 which serve the pm-poscs of our dam-earth, — the higher it 
 lies the redder it is, and is but little blackened by vegetation. 
 I saw, at a distance, a ravine, where it was red as cinnabar. 
 
 The monastery stands in the middle of the limestone hill, 
 which is very rich in springs. 
 
 Palermo, Wednesday, April 11, 1787. 
 Having explored the two principal objects without the 
 city, we betook ourselves to the palace, where a busy courier 
 showed us the rooms, and their contents. To our great 
 horror, the saloon in which the antiques are generally placed 
 was in the greatest disorder, in consequence of the walls 
 being under the process of decoration. The statues were 
 removed from then- usual places, covered with cloth, and pro-
 
 SICILY PALERMO. 
 
 473 
 
 tectedby wooden frames ; so that in spite of the good will of 
 our guide, and some trouble on the part of the work-people, wc 
 could only gain a very imperfect idea of them. My attention 
 was chiefly occupied with two rams, in bronze, which, not- 
 withstanding the unfavorable circumstances, highly delighted 
 our artistic taste. They are represented in a recumbent pos- 
 tm-e, with one foot stretched out before them, with the heads 
 (in order to form a pair) turned on different sides. Powerful 
 forms, belonging to the mythological fomily, and well worthy 
 to carry Phrixus and Helle. The wool, not short and crisp, 
 but long and flowing, with a slight wave, and shape most 
 true to nature, and extremely elegant — they evidently be- 
 longed to the best period of Grecian art. They are said to 
 have stood originally in the harboiu- of Syracuse. 
 
 The courier" now took us out of the city to the catacombs, 
 which, laid out on a regular architectm-al plan, are anything 
 but quarries converted into bm-ial places. In a rock of Tufa, of 
 tolerable hardness, the side of which has been worked level 
 and perpendicular, vaulted openings have been cut, and in 
 these again are hewn several tiers of sarcophagi, one above 
 the other : — all of the natural material without masonry of 
 any kind. The upper tiers arc smaller, and in the spaces 
 over the pillars are tombs for children. 
 
 Palermo, Thursday, April 12. 
 To day we have been shown Prince Torremuzza's cabinet 
 of medals. I went there in a certain degree against my will. 
 I am too little versed in these matters, and a mere curiosity- 
 mongering traveller is thoroughly detested by all true con- 
 noisseurs and scholars. But as one must in every case make 
 a beginning, I made myself easy on this head, and have 
 derived both gratification and profit from my visit. What a 
 satisfaction, even cursorily, to glance at the fact that the old 
 world was vhickly sown with cities ; the very meanest of 
 which has bequeathed to us in its precious coins, if not a com- 
 plete series, yet at least some epochs, of its history of art. 
 Out of these cabinets, there smiles upon us an eternal spring 
 of the blossoms and flowers of art — of a busy life, ennobled 
 with hiirh tastes, and of much more besides. Out of these 
 form-endowed pieces of metal the glory of the Sicilian cities, 
 now obscured, still shines forth fresh before us.
 
 474 XEXTERS FEOM ITALT. 
 
 Unfortunately, we in our youth had seen none but family 
 coins, which say nothing, and the coins of the Caesars, which 
 repeat to satiety the same profile — portraits of rulers, who are 
 to be regarded as any thing but models of humanity. How 
 sadly had our youth been confined to a shapeless Palestine, and 
 to a shape perplexing Rome ! Sicily and Nova Grecia give 
 me hopes again of a fresh existence. 
 
 That on these subjects I should enter into general reflections, 
 is a proof that as yet I do not understand much about them : 
 yet that, with all the rest, will in degrees be improved. 
 
 Palermo, Thursday, April 12, 1787. 
 
 Yesterday evening, a -odsh of mine was gratified, and that 
 in a very singular fashion. I was standing on the pavement of 
 the principal street, joking at the window with the shop- 
 keeper, I formerly mentioned, when suddenly, a courier, tall 
 and well-dressed, came up to me, and quickly poked a 
 silver salver before me, on which were several copper coins, 
 and a few pieces of silver. As I could not make out what 
 it all meant, I shook my head, and shrugged my shoulders, the 
 usual token by which in this coimtry you get rid of those 
 whose address or question you either cannot, or do not wish, to 
 understand. 
 
 " What does all this mean ?" I asked of my Mend the shop- 
 keeper, who, with a very significant mien, and somewhat 
 stealthily, pointed to a lank and haggard gentleman, who, 
 elegantly dressed, was walking with great dignity and indif- 
 ference, throflgh the dung and dirt. Frizzled and powdered, 
 with his hat luider his arm, in a silken vest, with his sword 
 by his side, andhaA^nganeat shoe ornamented with a jewelled 
 buckle — the old man walked on calmly and sorrowfully. All 
 eyes were directed towards him. 
 
 " It is the Prince Pallagonia," said the dealer, "who, from time 
 to time, goes through the city collecting money to ransom the 
 slaves in Barbary. It is true, he does not get much by his 
 collection, but the object is kept in memory ; and so it often 
 happens that those who. in their life -time, were backward in 
 giving, leave large legacies at their death. The prince 
 has for many years been at the head of this society, and has 
 done a great deal of good." 
 
 " Instead of wasting so much on the follies of his country
 
 SICILY — PALERMO. 475 
 
 house," I cried, " he might have spent the same large sum on 
 this object. Thcu no prince in the world would have 
 accomplished more." 
 
 To this the shopkeeper rejoined : " But is not that the way 
 with us all ? We are ready enough to pay for our own 
 follies. Our virtues for their support must look to the purses 
 of others." 
 
 Palermo, April 13, 1787. 
 
 Count Borck has very diligently worked before us in the 
 mineralogy of Sicily, and whoever of the same mind visits 
 the island after him, must willingly acknowledge his obligations 
 to him. I feel it a pleasure, no less than a duty, to celebrate 
 the memory of my predecessor. And what am I more than 
 a forerunner of others yet to be, both in my travels and life. 
 
 However, the industry of the Count seems to me to have 
 been greater than his knowledge. He appears to have gone 
 to work with a certain reserve, which is altogether opposed to 
 that stem earnestness with which grand objects should be 
 treated. 
 
 Nevertheless, his essay in quarto, which is exclusively 
 devoted to the mineralogy of Sicily, has been of great use to 
 me ; and, prepared by it, I was able to profit by my visit to 
 the Quan-ies which formerly, when it was the custom to case 
 the churches and altars with marbleand agate, were more busily 
 worked, though even now they are not idle. I purchased at 
 them, specimens of the hard and soft stones : for it is thus that 
 they usually designate the marble and agate, chiefly because 
 a difference of price mainly depends on this difference of qua- 
 lity. But, besides these, they have still another for a material 
 which is the produce of the fire of their kilns. In these, after 
 each burning, they find a sort of glassy flux, which in colour 
 varies from the lightest to the darkest, and even blackest blue. 
 These lumps are, like other stones, cut into thin lamina, and 
 then pierced according to the height of their colour and their 
 purity, and are successfully employed in the place of lapis 
 lazuli, in the decoration of churches, altars, and sepulchral 
 monuments. 
 
 A complete collection, such as I wished, is not to be had at 
 present; it is to be sent after me to Naples. The agates are 
 of the greatest beauty ; especially such as are variegated with
 
 476 XETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 irregular pieces of yellow or red jasper, and with white, and as 
 it were frozen quartz, which produce the most beautiful effect. 
 A very accurate imitation of these agates, produced by 
 lake colouring on the back of thin plates of glass, is the 
 only rational thing that I observed the other day among the 
 Pallagonian follies. Such imitations are far better for decora- 
 tions than the real agate, since the latter are only found in 
 very small pieces, whereas the size of the former depends on 
 nothing but the size of the artist's plate. This contrivance of 
 art well deserves to be imitated. 
 
 Palermo, April 13, 1787. 
 
 Italy without Sicily leaves no image on the soid : here is 
 the key to all. 
 
 Of the climate, it is impossible to say enough. It is now 
 rainy weather, but not uninterruptedly wet : yesterday it 
 thuudered and lightened, and to day all is intensely green. 
 The flax has in places ah-eady put forth joints — in others it is 
 boiling. Looking down from the hills, one fancies one sees in 
 the plain below little ponds : so beautifully blue-green are the 
 flax fields here and there. Living objects without number svu*- 
 round you. And my companion is an excellent fellow, the true 
 Iloffegut {I'io'peixA) and I honestly sustain the part of the True 
 friend. He has ah'eady made some beautiful sketches, and 
 will take still more before we go. What a prospect — to re- 
 turn home some day, happy, and with all these treasures ! 
 
 Of the meat and drink here, in the country, I have said 
 nothing as yet ; however, it is by no means an indifferent 
 matter. The garden stuffs are excellent, especially the 
 lettuce ; which is particulary tender, with a milky taste : it 
 makes one uxiderstand at once why the ancients termed it 
 lactuca. The oil and wine of all kinds very good ; and it 
 might be still better if more care were bestowed on its pre- 
 paration : — Fish of the very best and tenderest. We have had, 
 too, very good beef, though generally people do not praise it. 
 
 Now, after dinner, to the Avindow ! — to the streets ! A 
 maleftictor has just been pardoned — an event which takes 
 place every year in honour of the festival of Easter. The 
 brethren of some order or other led him to the foot of a 
 gallows, which had been erected for sake of the cei-emony : 
 then the criminal at the foot of the ladder offers up a prayer or
 
 SICILY rALERMO. 477 
 
 two ; and having kissed the scaffold, is led away again. He 
 was a good-looking fellow of the middle age, in a white coat, 
 white hat, and all else white. lie carried his hat in his hand ; 
 at different points they attached variegated ribbons to him, 
 so that at last he was quite in tune to go to any masquerade 
 in the character of a shepherd. 
 
 Palermo, April 13 and 14, 1787. 
 
 So then, before my departure, I was to meet with a strange 
 adventure, of which I must forthwith give you a cii'cumstaa- 
 tial account. 
 
 The whole time of my residence here, I have heard scarcely 
 any topic of conversation at the ordinary, but Cagliostro, his 
 origin and adventures. The people of Palermo are all 
 unanimous in asserting that a certain Joseph Balsamo was 
 born in their city, and having rendered himself infamous by 
 many disgraceful acts, was banished. But whether this person 
 is identical with the Count Cagliostro, was a point on which 
 opinions were divided. Some who knew Balsamo personally 
 asserted they recognized his fcatm'es in the engraving, which 
 is AveU kno'WTi in Germany, and which has also travelled as 
 far as Palermo. 
 
 In one of these conversations, one of the guests referred to 
 the trouble wflich a Palermitan laA\yer had taken in examining 
 this matter. He seems to have been commissioned by the 
 French Ministry to trace the origin of an individual, who, in 
 the face of France, and, indeed, of the whole world, had had 
 the temerity to utter the silliest of idle tales in the midst of 
 a legal process Avhich involved the most important interests 
 and the reputation of the highest personages. 
 
 This lawyer, it was asserted, had prepared the pedigree of 
 Giuseppe Balsamo, together with an explanatory memoir 
 and documentary proofs. It has been forwarded to France, 
 where in aU probability public use will be made of it. 
 
 As I expressed a wish to form the acquaintance of this lawyer, 
 of whom besides people spoke very highly, the person who had 
 recovmted these facts offered to mention me to him and to in^ 
 troduce me. 
 
 After a few days we paid him a visit, and found him busily 
 engaged with his clients. When he had dismissed them and 
 we had taken a Imicheon, he produced a manuscript which
 
 478 LEITEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 contained a transcript of Cagliostro's pedigree, and the rough 
 draught of the memoir which had been sent to France. 
 
 He laid the genealogy before me, and gave me the necessary 
 explanations, of which I shall here give you as much as is neces- 
 sary to facilitate the understanding of the whole business. 
 
 Giuseppe Balsarao's great-grandfather on his mother's side 
 was Matteo Martello. The maiden name of his great-grand- 
 mother is unknown. The issue of this marriage was two 
 daughters ; Maria, who married Giuseppe Bracconerie, and 
 the grandmother of Giuseppe Balsamo — and Vincenza, mar- 
 ried to Giuseppe Cagliostro, who was born in a little village 
 called La Noava, about eight miles from Messina. (I must 
 note here that there are at this moment living at Messina 
 two bellfounders of this name.) This great aimt was sub- 
 sequently godmother of Giuseppe Balsamo, who was named 
 after his great uncle, and at last in foreign countries assumed 
 also the surname of this relation. 
 
 The Bracconerie had three children, — Felicita, Matteo, and 
 Anton ia. 
 
 Felicita was married to Piedro Balsamo, who was the son 
 of Antonia Balsamo, ribbon dealer in Palermo, and probably 
 of Jewish descent. Piedro Balsamo, the father of the noto- 
 rious Giuseppe, became banki-upt, and died in his five-and- 
 fortieth year. His widow, who is still living, had born him, 
 besides the above-named Giuseppe Giovanna — Giuseppe 
 Maria, who married Giovanna Battista Capitummino, who 
 begot three children of her body, and died. 
 
 The memoir', which was read to us by its obliging author, 
 and was at my request lent to me for a few days, was founded 
 on baptismal and marriage certificates and other instruments 
 which he had with great diligence collected. It contains 
 pretty nearly (as I conclude from a comparison with a sum- 
 mary which I then made) all the cii-cumstances which have 
 lately been made better known to the world by the acts of the 
 legal process at Rome, viz,, that Giuseppe Balsamo was born 
 at Palermo, in the beginning of June, 1743, and that at his 
 baptism he was received back from the priest's arms by 
 Vincenza Cagliostro (whose maiden name was Martello) ; that 
 in his youth he took the habit of an order of the Brothers of 
 Mercy, which paid particular attention to the sick ; that he 
 soon showed great taleiit and sldll for medicine, but that
 
 PALERMO COUNT CAGilOSTRO. 479 
 
 for his disorderly practices he was expelled the order, and 
 thereupon set up in Palermo as a dealer in magic, and treasure 
 finder. 
 
 His great dexterity in imitating every kind of handwriting 
 was not allowed by him to lie idle. He falsified or rather 
 forged altogether an ancient document, by which the posses- 
 sion of some lands was brought into litigation. He was soon 
 an object of suspicion, and cast into prison ; but made his 
 escape, and was cited to appear under penalty of outlawry. 
 He passed through Calabria towards Rome, where he married 
 the daughter of a belt-maker. From Rome he came back to 
 Naples, under the name of the Marchese Pellegrini. He 
 even ventured to pay a visit to Palermo, was recognized, and 
 taken prisoner, and made his escape in a manner that well 
 deserves being circumstantially detailed. 
 
 One of the principal nobles of Sicily, who possessed very 
 large property, and held several important posts at the 
 Neapolitan com-t, had a son, who to a frame of unusual 
 strength and an uncontrollable temper united all the wanton 
 excesses which the rich and great, without education, can 
 think themselves privileged to indulge in. 
 
 Donna Lorenza had managed to attract him, and on him 
 the pretended Marchese Pellegrini relied for impunity. The 
 Prince avowed openly his patronage of this couple of new 
 comers, and set no boimds to his rage when Giuseppe Balsamo, 
 at the instance of the party whom he had injm-ed, was a 
 second time cast into prison. He had recourse to various means 
 to obtain his liberation ; and, when these were unsuccessful, in 
 the very ante-room of the President's court, he threatened the 
 advocate of the opposite party with the most di-eadfid conse- 
 quences if he did not consent to the release of Balsamo. As 
 the opposing advocate refused his consent, he rushed upon 
 him, struck him, knocked him down and kicked him, and was 
 only with difficulty restrained from further violence when the 
 judge, hearing the noise, rushed in and commanded peace. 
 
 The latter, a weak and cringing character, had not the 
 courage to pvmish the wrong-doer ; the opposite party, advo- 
 cate and all, were men of little minds ; and so Balsamo was 
 set at liberty, without, however, any record of his liberation 
 being fomid among the proceedings — neither by whose orders 
 or in what manner it was efiected.
 
 480 liETTEKS FKOJI ITALY. 
 
 Shortly after this he left Palermo, and travelled in different 
 countiies ; of which travels, however, the author of the 
 memoir had been only able to collect very imperfect infor- 
 mation. 
 
 The memoir ended with an acute argument to prove the 
 identity of Balsamo and Cagliostro, — a position Avhich was 
 at this time more difficult to prove than at present, now that 
 the whole history of this individual has been made public. 
 
 Had I not been led to form a conjecture that a public use 
 woidd have been made in France of this essay, and that on 
 my return I should find it ah-eady in print, I doubt not but I 
 shoidd have been permitted to take a transcript of it, and to 
 give my friends and the pubhc an early accomit of many inter- 
 €sting circumstances. 
 
 However, we have received the fullest accoimt, (and even 
 more particulars than this memoii"- contains,) from a quarter 
 which usually is the soui'ce of nothing but errors. Who would 
 have believed that Rome would ever have done so much for 
 the enlightening of the world, and for the utter exposm-e of an 
 impostor, as she has done by publishing the summary of the 
 proceedings in this case ? For although this work ovight and 
 might be much more interesting, it is nevertheless an excel- 
 lent document in the hands of every rational mind, who cannot 
 but feel deep regret to see the deceived, and those who were 
 not more deceived than deceivers, going on for years admiring 
 this man and his mummeries ; feeling themselves by fellow- 
 ship ^^•ith him raised above the common mass, and from the 
 heights of their credulous vanity pitying if not despising the 
 sound common sense of mankind in general. 
 
 Who was not willingly silent all the while ? And even now, 
 at last, when the whole affair is ended and placed beyond dis- 
 pute, it is only with difficulty that I can bring myself, in order 
 to complete the official account, to communicate some parti- 
 culars which have here become known to me. 
 
 When I foimd in the genealogy so many persons (especially 
 his mother and sisters) mentioned as still liA-ing, I expressed 
 to the author of the memoir a wish to see them, and to form 
 the acquaintance of the other relatives of so notorious an indi- 
 vidual. He remarked that it would be difficidt to bring it 
 about, since these persons, poor but respectable, and living 
 very retired, were not accustomed to receive visitors, and that
 
 PAI/EKJrO COUNT CAGIIOSTKO. 481 
 
 their natural suspicion would be roused by any attempt of 
 the kind. However, lie was I'eady to send to me his copy- 
 ing clerk, who had access to tlio family, and by Avhose means 
 he had procured the information and documents out of which 
 the pedigree had been compiled. 
 
 The next day his amanuensis made his appearance, and ex- 
 pressed several scruples upon the ma,tter. " I have, hitherto,"' 
 he said, " carefully avoided coming Avithin sight of these 
 persons. For, in order to get into my hands the certificates 
 of baptism and marriage, so as to be able to take legally 
 authenticated copies of them, I was obliged to have recourse 
 to a little trick. I took occasion to speak of some little family 
 property that was somehow or other imclaimed ; made it ap- 
 pear probable to them that the young C'apitummino was entitled 
 to it ; but I told them that first of all it was necessary to make 
 out a pedigree, in order to see how far the youth could establish 
 his claim : that, however, his success must eventually depend 
 upon law proceedings, which I woidd willingly undertake on 
 condition of receiving for my trouble a fair proportion of the 
 amount recovered. The good people readily assented to every- 
 thing. I got possession of the papers I wanted, took copies 
 of them, and finished the pedigree ; since then, however, I have 
 cautiously kept out of their sight. A few weeks ago old 
 Capitummino met me, and it Avas only by pleading the tardiness 
 with which such matters usually proceed that I managed to 
 excuse myself." 
 
 Thus spoke the copyist. As, however, I stuck to my pur- 
 pose, after some consideration he consented to take me to their 
 house, and suggested that it would bo best for me to give 
 myself out to be an Englishman, who had brought to the family 
 tidings of Cagliostro, Avho, immediately after his release from 
 the Bastile, had proceeded to London. 
 
 At the appointed hour — about two o'clock in the afternoon 
 —we set out on our expedition. The house was situated in 
 the corner of a narrow lane, not far from the great street, 
 " II Casaro." We ascended a few Avretchcd steps, and entered 
 at once iipon the kitchen. A Avoman of the middle size, 
 strong and broad, Avithout being fat, Avas busy Avashing up the 
 cooking utensils. She Avas neatly and cleanly clad, and as AA-e 
 entered, tm-ned up the corner of her apron, in order to conceal 
 from us its dirty front. She seemed glad to see my guide, 
 
 Vol. II. 2 i
 
 482 XETTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 and exclaimed, " Do you bring us good news, Sign or Gloyanni ? 
 Have you obtained a decree ?" 
 
 He replied, " No ! I have not as yet been able to do anything 
 in oui- matter. However, here is a foreia;ner who brinsis vou 
 a greeting from yom- brother, and who can give you an 
 aecoimt of his present state and abode." 
 
 The greeting that I was to bring did not exactly stand in 
 our bond. However, the introduction was now made. '• You 
 know my brother ?" she asked me. " All Europe knows him," 
 I replied, "and I am siu-e yoix will be glad to hear that he is 
 at present safe and well ; for assuredly you must have been 
 in great anxiety about him." " Walk in," she said, " I 
 will follow you immediately;" and so, with the copying- 
 clerk, I entered the sitting- room. 
 
 It was spacious and lofty, and would pass with us for a 
 saloon. It seemed, however, to foi-m the whole dwelling of 
 the family. A single window lighted the large walls, which 
 were once coloured, and aromid which figm-es of the Saints — 
 taken in black — hung in gilt frames. Two large beds, without 
 curtains, stood against one wall, while a brown press, which 
 had the shape of an escritoire, was placed against the opposite 
 one. Old chaii's, with rush bottoms, the backs of which 
 seemed once to have been gilded, stood on each side of it; 
 while the bricks of the floors were in many places sunk deep 
 below the level. In other respects, everything was clean 
 and tidy, and we made oiu* way towards the family, who 
 were gathered around tlie only large window at the other 
 end of the room. 
 
 "VNTiile my guide was explaining to the old widow Balsamo, 
 who sat in the corner, the cause of our visit, and in consequence 
 of the deafiiess of the good old woman, had frequently to repeat 
 his words, I had time to observe the room and the rest of its 
 occupants. A young girl, of about sixteen years of age, weU 
 grown, whose features, however, the small-pox had robbed of 
 all expression, was standing at the window; by her side a 
 young man, whose unpleasant coimtenance, sadly disfigiu-ed 
 by the small-pox, also struck me. In an arm-chair, opposite 
 the window, sat, or rather reclined, a sick and sadly deformed 
 person, who seemed to be afflicted with a sort of toi-por. 
 
 When my guide had made himself understood, they com- 
 pelled us to sit down. The old woman put some questions to
 
 PALERMO — COUNT CAGLIOSTEO. 483 
 
 me, which I required to have interpreted before I could answer 
 them, as I was not very familiar \yith the Sicilian dialect. 
 
 I was pleased with the examination, which, during this con- 
 versation, I made of the old woman. She was of middle size, but 
 of a good figm-e ; over her regular features an expression of calm- 
 ness was difHised, which people xisually enjoy who are deprived 
 of hearing ; the tone of her voice was soft and agreeable. 
 
 I answered her questions, and my answers had, in their 
 tm-n, to be interpreted to her. 
 
 The slowness of such a dialogue gave me an opportunity of 
 weighing my words. I told her that her son having been 
 acquitted in France, was at present in London, where he had 
 been well received. The joy which she expressed at this news 
 was accompanied 'oith exclamations of a heartfelt piety, and now, 
 as she spoke louder and slower I could iinderstand her better. 
 
 In the meanwhile her daughter had come in, and had 
 seated herself by the side of my guide, who faithfully re- 
 peated to her what I had been saying. She had tied on a 
 clean apron, and arranged her hair under a net. The more 
 I looked at her, and compared her with her mother, the more 
 siu-prised was I at the diiference of their persons. A lively, 
 healthy sensibility spoke in every feature of the daughter ; 
 she was, in all probability, about forty years old. With 
 lovely blue eyes, she looked cautiously aroimd, without, 
 however, my being able to trace the least symptom of sus- 
 picion. As she sat, her figure seemed to promise greater 
 height than it showed when she stood up; her posture 
 bespoke determination ; she sat with her body bent forwards, 
 and her hands resting on her knees. Moreover, her full, 
 rather than sharp profile, reminded me of the portraits of her 
 brother, which I had seen in engravings. She asked rae 
 several questions about my travels : about my purpose in 
 visiting Sicily, and would persuade herself that I should niost 
 assuredly come back again, and keep with them the Festival 
 of S. Rosalie. 
 
 The grandmother having, in the mean time, put some ques- 
 tions to me, Avhile I was busied in answering them, the 
 daughter was speaking in a half M'hisper to my guide; so 
 that my cvu-iosity was stimulated to ask what they were talking 
 about. Upon this he said. Donna Capitmnmino was just 
 teUinghim that her brother owed herfom-teen oncie. In order 
 
 2 I 2
 
 484 LETTERS FEOJI ITALY. 
 
 to facilitate his rapid departui-e from Palermo, she had re- 
 deemed some of his things which were in pawn ; but since 
 then she had not heard a word from him, nor received any 
 money, nor help of any kind, although, as she had heard, he 
 possessed great wealth, and kept a princely estabUshment, 
 Would I not engage on my return, at the first favourable 
 moment to remind him of this debt, and to get him to make 
 them an allowance — nay, would I not take a letter to him, or 
 at least franlv one to him? I offered to do so. She asked me 
 where I lived ? and where she could send me the letter. I 
 avoided giving her my address, and engaged to caU myself 
 for the letter on the evening of the next day. 
 
 She then recounted to me her pitiable situation : she was 
 a widow, with three children : one girl was being educated in a 
 nunnery, the other was here at home ; and her son was gone 
 to school. Besides these three children she had her mother 
 on her hands, for whose support she must provide, and besides 
 all this, out of clu-istian love she had taken into her house 
 the unfortimate sick person — and thus augmented her mise- 
 ries — all her industry scarcely sufficed to furnish herself and 
 children with the very barest necessaries. She weU knew that 
 God would reward all such good works ; still she could not help 
 sighing beneath the heavy bmllien she had so long borne. 
 
 The young people joined in the conversation, and the dia- 
 logue became livelier. "While I was speaking to the others 
 I heard the old woman ask her daughter if I belonged to 
 their holy religion. I was able to observe that the daughter 
 skilfully parried the question by asssm-ing her mother (as well 
 as I could make out her words) that the stranger ajijjeared 
 well disposed towards them ; and that it was not proper to 
 question any one all at once on this point. 
 
 When they heard that I was soon to depart from Palermo, 
 they became still more m-gent, and entreated me to come back 
 again at all events ; especially they praised the heavenly day 
 of S. Rosalie's festival, the like of which was not to be seen 
 or enjoyed in the world. 
 
 My guide, who for a long while had been wishing to get 
 away, at last by his signs put an end to our tallc, and I pro- 
 mised to come on the evening of the next day, and fetch the 
 letter. My guide expressed his satisfaction that all had gone 
 off so well, and we parted, well satisfied with each other. 
 
 You may imagine what impression this poor, pious, and well-
 
 PALERMO COUXI CAGLIOSTRO. 485 
 
 disposed family made upon me. My curiosity was satisfied ; 
 but their natural and pleasing behaviour had excited my 
 sjTnpathy, and reflection only confirmed my good will in 
 their favour. 
 
 But then some anxiety soon arose in my mind about to- 
 morrow. It was only natural that my visit, which at first 
 had so charmed them, would, after my departure, be talked 
 and thought over by them. From the pedigree I was aware 
 that others of the fixmily were still living. Nothing could 
 be more natiu-al than that they should call in their friends to 
 consult them on all that they had been so astonished to hear 
 from me the day before. I had gained my object, and now it 
 only remained for me to contrive to bring this adventme to a 
 favourable issue. I therefore, set off the next day, and amved 
 at their house just after their dinner. They were sm-prised to 
 see me so early. The letter, they told me, was not yet ready ; 
 and some of their relatives wished to make my acquaintance, 
 and they would be there towards evening. 
 
 I replied that I was to depart early in the morning ; that I 
 had yet some visits to make, and had also to pack up, and 
 that I had determined to come earlier than I had promised 
 rather than not come at all. 
 
 Dm-ing this conversation the son entered, Avhom I had not seen 
 the day before. In form and countenance he resembled his sister. 
 He had brought with him the letter which I was to take. As 
 usual in these parts, it had been written by one of the public 
 notaries. The youth who was of a quiet, sad, and modest 
 disposition, inquired about his uncle, asked about his riches 
 and expenditm-e, and added, " How could he forget his family 
 so long? ^ It would be the greatest happiness to us," he con- 
 tinued, "if he would only come back and help us;" but he 
 further asked, "How came he to tell you that he had relations in 
 Palermo ? It is said that he everywhere disowns us, and gives 
 himself out to be of high birth." These questions, which ray 
 guide's want of foresight on our first visit had given rise to, 
 I contrived to satisfy, by making it appear possible that, 
 although his uncle might have many reasons for concealing 
 his origin from the public, he would, nevertheless make no 
 secret of it to his friends and famihar acquaintances. 
 _ His sister, who had stepped for\^-ard during this conversa- 
 tion, and who had taken courage from the presence of ber 
 brother, and probably, also, from the absence of yesterday's
 
 486 liEXIEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 fiiencl, began now to speak. Her manner was very pretty and 
 lively. She earnestly begged me, when I wi'ote to her micle, 
 to commend her to him ; and not less earnestly, also, to come 
 back when I had finished my tour thi-ough the kingdom of 
 Sicily, and to attend with them the festivities of S. Rosalie. 
 
 The mother joined her voice to that of her children. 
 " Signer," she exclaimed, " although it does not in propriety 
 become me, who have a grown-up daughter, to invite strange 
 men to my house, — and one ought to guard not only against 
 the danger itself, but even against evil tongues, — still you, I 
 can assure you, will be heartily welcome, whenever you return 
 to oui" city." 
 
 " Yes ! yes ! " cried the children, " we will guide the Signor 
 thi-oughout the festival ; we will show him every thing ; we 
 Avill place him on the scaffolding from which you have 
 the best view of the festivities. How delighted will he be with 
 the great car, and especially with the splendid illuminations!" 
 
 In the mean while, the grandmother had read the letter over 
 and over again. When she was told that I wished to take my 
 leave, she stood up and delivered to me the folded paper. 
 " Say to my son," she said, with a noble vivacity, not to say 
 enthusiasm, " tell my sou how happy the news you have 
 brought me of him has made us. Say to my son, that I 
 thus fold him to my heart," (here she stretched out her arms 
 and again closed them over her bosom) — " that everj' day in 
 prayer I supplicate God and our blessed Lady for him ; that 
 I give my blessing to him and to his wife, and that I have 
 no wish but, before I die, to see him once again, with these 
 eyes, which have shed so many tears on his account." 
 
 The peculiar elegance of the Italian favoured the choice 
 and the noble arrangement of her words, which, moreover, 
 were accompanied with those very lively gestures, by which 
 this people usually give an incredible charm to every- 
 thing they say. Not immoved, I took my leave ; they all 
 held out then- hands to me : the children even accompanied me 
 to the door, and while I descended the steps, ran to the bal- 
 cony of the window which opened from the kitchen into the 
 street, called after me, nodded their adieus, and repeatedly 
 cried out to me not to forget to come again and see them. They 
 w^ere still standing on the balcony, when I tmiied the corner. 
 
 I need not say that the interest I took in this family excited 
 in me the liveliest desire to be useful to them, and to help them
 
 PAXEEMO COUNT CAGLIOSTEO. 487 
 
 in tlieir great need. Through, me they were now a second 
 time deceived, and hopes of assistance, which they had no 
 previous expectation of, had been again raised, tlu-ough the 
 curiosity of a son of the north, only to be disappointed. 
 
 My first intention was to pay them before my departure 
 these fom-teen oncie, which, at his departure, the fugitive was 
 indebted to them, and by expressing a hope that he would repay 
 me, to conceal from them the fact of its being a gift from myself. 
 When, however, I got home, and cast up my accounts, and 
 looked over my cash and bills. I found that, in a country where, 
 from the want of communication, distance is infinitely magni- 
 fied, I should perhaps jilace myself in a strait if I attempted to 
 make amends for the dishonesty of a rogue, by an act of mere 
 good natui-e. 
 
 The subsequent issue of this affaii- may as well be here 
 introduced. 
 
 I set off from Palermo, and never came back to it ; but 
 notwithstanding the great distance of my Sicilian and Italian 
 travels, my soul never lost the impression which the inter- 
 view with this family had left upon it. 
 
 I retiurned to my native laud, and the letter of the old widow, 
 turning up among the many other papers, which had come with 
 it fi'om Naples by sea, gave me occasion to speak of this and 
 other adventm-es. 
 
 Below is a translation of this letter, in which I have pm*- 
 posely allowed the peculiarities of the original to appear. 
 
 " My Dearest Sox, 
 
 " On the 16th April, 1787, I received tidings of you through 
 Mr. Wilton, and I cannot express to you how consoling it 
 was to me ; for ever since you removed from France, I have 
 been unable to hear any tidings of you. 
 
 " My dear Sou, — I entreat you not to forget me, for I am 
 very poor, and deserted by all my relations but my daughter, 
 and your sister Maria Giovanna, in whose house I am living. 
 She cannot afford to supply all my wants, but she does what 
 she can. She is a widow, with thi-ee children : one daughter 
 is in the nunnery of S. Catherine, the other two children are 
 at home with her. 
 
 " I repeat, my dear son, my entreaty. Send me just enough 
 to provide for my necessities ; for I ha^■e not even the ncces-
 
 488 LETIEKS FEOJI ITALY. 
 
 sary articles of clothing to discharge the duties of a Catholic, 
 for my mantle and outer garments are perfectly in rags. 
 
 '• If you send me anything, or even write me merely a letter, 
 do not send it by post, but by sea ; for Don Matteo, my bro- 
 ther (Bracconeri), is the postmaster. 
 
 " My dear Son, I entreat you to provide me with a tari 
 a-day, in order that your sister may, in some measure, be 
 relieved of the bmihen I am at present to her, and that I 
 may not perish from want. Remember the divine command, 
 and help a poor mother, who is reduced to the utmost ex- 
 tremity. I give you my blessing, and press to my heart both 
 thee and Donna Lorenza, thy wife. 
 
 " Your sister embraces you from her heart, and her children 
 kiss your hands. 
 
 " Your mother, who dearly loves yovi, and presses you to 
 
 her heart. 
 
 ., D 7 ^ -7 10 i-o-'j "Felice Balsamo. 
 
 '• Palermo, Apru 18, 1 / 8 / . 
 
 Some Avorthy and exalted persons, before whom I laid this 
 document, together with the whole story, shared my emo- 
 tions, and enabled me to discharge my debt to this unhappy 
 family, and to remit them a sum which they received towards 
 the end of the year 1787. Of the effect it had, the following 
 letter is evidence. 
 
 "Palermo, December 25, 1787. 
 
 " Dear a>-d Faithful Bkothek, 
 
 " Dearest Sox, 
 
 " The joy Avhich we have had in hearing that you are in 
 good health and circumstances, Ave cannot express by auA" 
 Avriting. By sending them this little assistance, you liaAX' 
 filled Avith the greatest joy and delight a mother and a sister 
 who are abandoned by all. and have to proA'ide for tAvo daugh- 
 ters and a son : for, after that Mr. Jacob Joff, an English mer- 
 chant had taken great pains to find out the Donna Giuseppe 
 Maria Capitummino (by birth Balsamo), in consequence of my 
 being commonly knoAA-n, merely as Marana Capitummino, he 
 found \is at last in a little tenement, Avhere Ave live on a corre- 
 sponding scale. He informed us that you had ordered a sum of 
 money to be paid us, and that he had a receipt, which I, your 
 sister, must sign — which Avas accordingly done ; for he imme- 
 diately pvit the money in our hands, and the favorable rate of 
 .the exchange has brought us a little further gain.
 
 PALERMO — COUNI CAGLIOSTEO. 489 
 
 *' Now, think with whnt delight Ave must have received this 
 sum, at a time Avhcn Christmas Day was just at hand, and we 
 had no hope of being heljied to spend it with its usual festivity. 
 
 " The Incarnate Sa\T:our has moved your heart to send us 
 this money, which has served not only to ajipease our hunger, 
 but actually to clothe us, when we were in Avant of everything. 
 
 " It would giA'e VIS the greatest gratification possible if you 
 would gratify oiu- AA'ish to see you once more — especially mine, 
 your mother, AA'ho never cease to bcAA'ail my sepai-ation from an 
 cnlj'' son, whom I woidd much AA-ish to see again before I die. 
 
 " But if, OAving to circumstances, this cannot be, still do not 
 neglect to come to the aid of my misery, especially as you 
 have discovered so excellent a channel of commimication, and 
 so honest and exact a merchant, aa'Iio, Avhen avc knew nothing 
 about it, and Avhen he had the money entirely in his OAA-n 
 power, has honestly sought us out and faithfully paid OA'er to 
 us the sum you remitted. 
 
 " With you that perhaps will not signify much. To 
 us, howeA'er, every help is a treasm-e. Your sister has 
 tAvo groAvn up daughters, and her son also requires a little 
 help. You know that she has nothing in the Avorld ; and 
 Avhat a good act Avill you not perform by sending her enough 
 to furnish them all Avith a suitable outfit. 
 
 " May God preserA-e you in health ! We iuA-oke Him in 
 gratitude, and pray that He may still continue the pros- 
 perity you have hitherto enjoyed, and that He may moA'c your 
 heart to keep us in remembrance. In His name I bless you 
 and yovu- AA'ife, as a most affectionate mother — and I your 
 sister, embrace you : and so does your nephcAv, Giuseppe 
 (Bracconeri), Avho AATote this letter. We all pray for your 
 prosperity, as do also my two sisters, Antonia and Theresa. 
 " We embrace you, and are, 
 " Your sister, " Yom* mother, 
 
 who loA-es you, Avho Ioats and blesses you, 
 
 Giuseppe-Maria, who blesses you CA-cry hoiu-, 
 
 Capitummtno, Felice Balsamo, 
 
 and Balsamo. and Bracconeri." 
 
 The signatures to the letter are in their oaati handAA-riting. 
 
 I had caused the money to be paid to them Avithout sending any 
 letter, or intimation whence it came ; this makes their mistake 
 the more natm'al, and their future hojics ths more probable.
 
 490 XETTEES from: ITALY. 
 
 Now, that tliey have been informed of the an-est and im- 
 prisomneut of their relative, I feel myself at liberty to explain 
 matters to them, and to do something for their consolation. 
 T have still a small simi for them in my hands, which I shall 
 remit to them, and profit by the opportunity to explain the 
 true state of the matter. Should any of my friends, should any 
 of my rich and noble countrymen, be disposed to enlarge, by 
 their contributions, the sum I have akeady in my hands, I 
 would exhort them in that case to forward their kind gifts 
 to me before Michaelmas-day, in order to share the gratitude, 
 and to be rewarded with the happiness of a deserving family, 
 out of which has proceeded one of the most siugidar monsters 
 that has appeared in this century. 
 
 I shall not fad to make known the further course of this 
 story, and to give an account of the state in which my next 
 remittance finds the family ; and perhaps also I shall add 
 some remarks which this matter induced me to make, but 
 which, however, I withhold at present in order not to disturb 
 my reader's fii'st impressions. 
 
 Palermo, April 14, 1787. 
 
 Towards evening I paid a visit to my friend the shop- 
 keeper, to ask him how he thought the festival was likely to 
 pass ofi"; for to-morrow there is to be a solenm procession 
 thi'ough the city, and the Viceroy is to accompany the host 
 on foot. The least wind will envelop both man and the sacred 
 symbols in a thiclc cloud of dust. 
 
 With much humour he replied : In Palermo, the people look 
 for nothing more confidently than for a miracle. Often before 
 now on such occasions, a violent passing shower had fallen 
 and cleansed the streets partially at least, so as to make a 
 clean road for the procession. On this occasion a similar 
 hope was entertained, and not without cause, for the sky was 
 overcast, and promised rain during the night. 
 
 Palermo, Sunday, April 15, 1787. 
 And so it has actually turned out ! During the night the 
 most violent of showers have fallen. In the morning I set cut 
 very early in order to be an eye-witness of the max'vel. The 
 stream of rain-water pent up between the two raised pavements 
 had carried the lightest of the rubbish down the inclined street, 
 either into the sea or into such of the sewers as were not
 
 PALEKMO IIS STREETS. 491 
 
 stopped up, while the grosser and heavier dung was driven 
 from spot to spot. In this a singular meandering line of 
 cleanliness was marked out along the streets. On the morning 
 hundi-eds and hundi-eds of men were to be seen Avith brooms 
 and shovels, busily enlarging this clear space, and in order 
 to comiect it where it was inten-upted by the mii-e ; and 
 throwing the still remaining impurities now to this side, 
 now to that. By this means when the procession started, it 
 found a clear serpentine walk prepared for it through 
 the mud, and so both the long robed priests and the neat- 
 booted nobles, with the Viceroy at theii- head, were able 
 to proceed on their way unhindered and unsplashed. 
 
 I thought of the children of Israel passing through the waters 
 by the dry path prepared for them by the hand of the Angel, 
 and this remembrance served to ennoble what otherwise woidd 
 have been a revolting sight — to see these devout and noble 
 peers parading their devotions along an alley, flanlied on each 
 side by heaps of mud. 
 
 On the pavement there w'as now, as always, clean walking • 
 but in the more retired parts of the city whither we w-ere 
 this day carried in pmsuance of our intention of visiting the 
 quai-ters which we had hitherto neglected, it was almost im- 
 possible to get along, although even here the sweeping and 
 piling of the filth was by no means neglected. 
 
 The festival gave occasion to om- visiting the principal 
 church of the city and observing its cmiosities. Being once on 
 the move, we took a roimd of all the other public edifices. We 
 were much pleased with a Moorish building, which is in ex- 
 cellent preservation — not very large, but the rooms beautiful, 
 broad, and well proportioned, and in excellent keeping with the 
 whole pile. It is not perhaps suited for a northern climate, but 
 in a southern land a most agreeable residence. Ai-chitects 
 may perhaps some day furnish us with a plan and elevation of it. 
 Wc also saw in most misuitable situations various remains 
 of ancient marble statues, which, however, we had not 
 patience to try to make out. 
 
 Palermo, April 16, 1787. 
 As we are obliged to anticipate our speedy departure from, 
 this paradise, I hoped to-day to spend a thorough holiday by 
 sitting in the pubhc gardens ; and after studying the task 1 had 
 set myself out of the Odyssey, taking a walk through the valley, 
 and at the foot of the hill of S. llosalie, thinking over again my
 
 492 liETTERS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 sketch of Nausicaa, and there trying Avhether tliis subject is sus- 
 ceptible of a di-aniatic form. All this I have managed, if not 
 with perfect success, yet certainly much to my satisfaction. 
 I made out the plan, and could not abstain from sketching 
 some portions of it which appeared to me most interesting, 
 and tried to work them out. 
 
 Palermo, Tuesday, Ajvil 17, 1787. 
 It is a real misery to be pvirsued and hunted by many 
 spirits ! Yesterday I set out early for the public gardens, 
 with a firm and calm resolve to realize some of my poetical 
 dreams ; but before I got within sight of them, another 
 spectre got hold of me which has been following me these 
 last few days. Many plants which hitherto I had been used 
 to see only in pots and tubs, or under glass-frames, stand 
 here fresh and joyous beneath the open heaven, and as they 
 here completely fulfil their destination, their natures and 
 characters became more plain and evident to me. In pre- 
 sence of so many new and renovated forms, my old fancy 
 occurred again to me : Might I not discover the primordial 
 plant among all these numerous specimens ? Some such 
 there must be ! For, otherwise, how am I able at once to 
 determine that this or that form is a plant unless they are all 
 formed after one original type ? I busied myself, therefore, 
 ■with examining wherein the many varying shapes differed 
 from each other. And in every case I found them all to be 
 more similar than dissimilar, and attempted to apply my 
 botanical terminology. That Avent on well enoiigh ; still I was 
 not satisfied ; I rather felt annoyed that it did not lead fur- 
 ther. My pet poetical purpose was obstructed ; the gardens 
 of Antinous all vanished — a real garden of the world had 
 taken their place. Why is it tliat we moderns have so little 
 concentration of mind ? Why is it that we are thus tempted 
 to make requisitions which we can neither exact nor fulfil ? 
 
 Alcamo, Wedesday, April 18, 1787. 
 At an eai-ly hour, we rode out of Palermo. Kniep and the 
 Vetturino showed their skill in packing the carriage inside 
 and out. We drove slowly along the excellent road, with 
 which we had previovisly become acquainted during our 
 visit to San INIartino, and wondered a second time at the false 
 taste displayed in the fountains on the way. At one of these
 
 ALCAMO. 493 
 
 our driver stopped to supply himself with water according to 
 the temperate habits of this country. He had at starting, 
 hung to the traces a small wine-cask, such as our market- 
 women use, and it seemed to us to hold wine enou<>-h for 
 several days. We were, therefore, not a little surprised when 
 he made for one of the many conduitpipes, took out the pluo- 
 of his cask, and let the water run into it. With true German 
 amazement, we asked him what ever he was about ? was not 
 the cask full of wine ? To all which, he replied with great 
 nonchalance : he had left a third of it empty, and as no one in 
 this country drank mimixed wine, it Avas better to mix it at 
 once in a large quantity, as then the liquids combined better 
 together, and besides you were not sure of finding water 
 everywhere. During this conversation the cask was filled, 
 and we had some talk together of this ancient and oriental 
 wedding custom. 
 
 And now as we reached the heights beyond IMou Reale, we 
 saw wonderfully beautiful districts, but tilled in traditional 
 rather than in a true economical style. On the right, the 
 eye reached the sea, where, between singular shaped head- 
 lands, and beyond a shore here covered with, and there desti- 
 tute of, trees, it caught a smooth and level horizon, perfectly 
 calm, and forming a glorious contrast with the wild and rugged 
 limestone rocks. Kniep did not fail to take miniature "out- 
 lines of several of them. 
 
 We are at present in Alcamo, a quiet and clean little town, 
 whose well-conducted inn is highly to be commended as an 
 excellent establishment, especially as it is most conveniently 
 situated for visitois to the temple of Segeste, which lies out of 
 the direct road in a very lonely situation. 
 
 Alcamo, Thicrsdmj, April 19, 1787. 
 Our agreeable dwelling in this quiet town, among the 
 mountains, has so charmed us that we have determined to pass 
 a whole day here. We may then, before anything else, speak 
 of our adventures yesterday. In one of my earlier letters, 
 I questioned the origmality of Prince Pallagonia's bad taste. 
 He has had forermmers and can adduce many a precedent. On 
 the road towards ]Mon lieale stand two monstrosities, beside 
 a fountain with some vases on a balustrade, so utterly repug- 
 nant to good taste that one would sujipose they must have 
 been placed there by the Prince himself.
 
 494 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 After passing Mon Reale, we left behind us the beautiful road, 
 and got into the rugged mountain country. Here some rocks 
 appeared on the crown of the road, which, judging from their 
 gra-sdty and metallic incrustations, I took to be ironstone. 
 Every level spot is cultivated, and is more or less prolific. 
 The limestone in these parts had a reddish hue, and all the pul- 
 verized earth is of the same colour. This red argillaceous 
 and calcareous earth extends over a great space ; the subsoil 
 is hard ; no sand underneath ; but it produces excellent 
 wheat. We noticed old very strong, but stumpy, olive trees. 
 
 Under the shelter of an airy room, Avhich has been built 
 as an addition to the wretched inn, we refreshed ourselves with 
 a temperate luncheon. Dogs eagerly gobbled up the skins of 
 the sausages we threw away, but a beggar-boy di-ove them 
 ofi'. He was feasting with a wonderful appetite on the parings 
 of the apples we were devouring, when he in his turn was driven 
 away by an old beggar. Want of work is here felt eveiywhere. 
 In a ragged toga the old beggar was glad to get a job as house- 
 servant, or waiter. Thus I had formerly observed that 
 whenever a landlord was asked for anything which he had 
 not at the moment in the house, he would send a beggar to 
 the shop for it. 
 
 However, we are pretty well provided against all such son*}- 
 attendance ; for our Vetturino is an excellent feUow — he is 
 ready as ostler, cicerone, guard, courier, cook, and everji;hing. 
 
 On the higher hills you find every where the olive, the 
 caruba, and the ash. Their system of farming is also spread 
 over three years. Beans, corn, fallow; in which mode of 
 culture the people say the dung does more marvels than all 
 the Saints. The grape stock is kept doAvn very low. 
 
 Alcamo is gloriously situated on a height, at a tolerable dis- 
 tance from a bay of the sea. The magnificence of the country 
 quite enchanted us. Lofty rocks, -R-ith deep valleys at their 
 feet, but withal wide open spaces, and great variety. Be- 
 yond Mon Reale you look upon a beautiM double valley, in 
 the centre of which a hilly ridge agaiii raises itself. The 
 fruitful fields lie green and quiet, but on the broad road-way 
 the wild bushes and shrubs are brilliant with flowers — the 
 broom one mass of yellow, covered with its pupilionaceous 
 blossoms, and not a single green leaf to be seen ; the white- 
 thorn cluster on cluster ; the aloes are risins: hig-h and uromis- 
 ing to flower; a rich tapestry of an amaranthine -red clover, of
 
 SICILY SEGESTE. 495 
 
 orchids and the little Alpine roses, hyacinths, with unopened 
 bells, asphodels, and other wild flowers. 
 
 The streams which descend from M. Seg;este leave deposits, 
 not only of limestone, but also of pebbles of hornstone. 
 They are very compact, dark blue, yellow, red, and brown, of 
 various shades. I also found complete lodes of horn, or fire- 
 stone, in the limestone rocks, edged with lime. Of such 
 gravel one finds whole hills just before one gets to Alcamo. 
 
 Segesie, April 20, 1787. 
 
 The temple of Segeste was never finished; the ground around 
 it was never even levelled ; the space only being smoothed 
 on which the peristyle was to stand. For, in several places, 
 the steps are from nine to ten feet in the ground, and there is 
 no hill near, from which the stone or mould could have falleii. 
 Besides, the stones lie in their natural position, and no ruins 
 are found near them. 
 
 The columns are all standing ; two which had fallen, have 
 veiy recently been raised again. How far the columns rested 
 on a socle is hard to say ; and without an engi'a\ing it is dif- 
 ficult to give an idea of their present state. At some points it 
 would seem as if the pillars rested on the fourth step. In that 
 case to enter the temple you would have to go down a step. 
 In other places, however, the uj^permost step is cut through, and 
 then it looks as if the columns had rested on bases ; and then 
 again these spaces have been filled up, and so we have once more 
 the first case. An architect is necessary to determine this point. 
 
 The sides have twelve columns, not reckoning the corner 
 ones ; the back and front six, including them. The rollers on 
 which the stones were moved along, still lie around you on the 
 steps. They have been left in order to indicate that the temple 
 was imfinished. But the strongest evidence of this fact is the 
 floor. In some spots (along the sides) the pavement is laid 
 down, in the middle, however, the red limestone rock still 
 projects higher than the level of the floor as partially laid ; the 
 flooring, therefore, cannot ever have been finished. There is 
 also no trace of an inner temple. Still less can the temple 
 have ever been overlaid with stucco ; but that it was intended 
 to do so, we may infer from the fact tliat the abaci of the 
 capitals have projecting points probably for the purpose of 
 holding the plaster. The whole is built of a limestone, very 
 s imi lar to the travertine ; onlv it is now much fretted. The
 
 496 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 restoration which was carried on in 1781, has done much 
 good to the building. The cutting of the stone, with Avhich 
 the parts have been reconnected, is simple, but beautiful. 
 The large blocks standing by themselves, which are mentioned 
 by Riedesel, I could not find ; probably they were used for 
 the restoration of the colmnns. 
 
 The site of the temple is singular ; at the highest end of 
 a broad and long valley, it stands on an isolated hill. Sur- 
 rounded, however, on all sides by clitis, it commands a very dis- 
 tant and extensive view of the laud, but takes in only just a 
 corner of the sea. The district reposes in a sort of melancholy 
 fertility — every where well cultivated, but scarce a dwelling 
 to be seen. Flowering thistles were swarming with countless 
 butterflies, wild fennel stood here from eight to nine feet high, 
 day and withered of the last year's growth, but so rich and in 
 such seeming order that one might almost take it to be an old 
 nursery-ground. A shrill wind Avhistled through the columns 
 as if through a wood, and screaming birds of prey hovered 
 around the pediments. 
 
 The wearisomeness of winding through the insignificant ruins 
 of a theatre took away from us all the pleasures we might 
 otherwise have had in visiting the remains of the ancient city. 
 At the foot of the temple, we found large pieces of the horn- 
 stone. Indeed, the road to Alcamo is composed of vast quantities 
 of jaebbles of the same formation. From the road a portion of 
 a gravelly earth passes into the soil, by which means it is 
 rendered looser. In some fennel of this year's growth, I 
 observed the difference of the lower and upper lea-s'es ; it is 
 still the same organisation that develojjs multiplicity out of 
 imity. They are most industrious weeders in these parts. 
 Just as beaters go through a Avood for game, so here they 
 go tlirough the fields weeding. I have actually seen some 
 insects here. In Palermo, however, I saw nothing but Avorms, 
 lizards, leeches, and snakes, though not more finely coloured 
 than with us — indeed, they are mostly all gray. 
 
 . Castel Vetrano, 
 
 Saturday, April 21, 1787. 
 
 From Alcamo to Castel Vetrano you come on the lime-stone, 
 after crossing some hills of gravel. Between precipitous and 
 barren limestone mountains, lie wide undulating valleys, every- 
 where tilled, with scarcely a tree to be seen. The gravelly 
 hills arc full of large holders, giving signs of ancient inunda-
 
 SICILY — SCIACCA. 497 
 
 tions of the sea. The soil is better mixed and lighter than 
 any we have hitherto seen, in consequence of its containing 
 some sand. Leaving Salemi about fifteen miles to our right, Ave 
 came upon hills of gypsum, lying on the limestone. The soil 
 ap2)ears, as we proceed, to be better and more richly com- 
 pounded. In the distance you catch a peep of the Western 
 sea. In the foreground the country is everywhere hilly. We 
 found the fig-trees just budding, but what most excited om* 
 delight and wonder Avas endless masses of flowers, which had 
 encroached on the broad road, and flom-ish in large variegated 
 patches. Closely bordering on each other, the several sorts, 
 nevertheless, keep themselves apart and recui* at regular inter- 
 vals. The most beautiful convolvoluses, hibiscuses, and mallows, 
 various kinds of trefoil, here and there the garlic, and the 
 galega-gestrauche. On horsebqck you may ride through this 
 varied tapestry, by following the numberless and ever-crossing 
 narrow jiaths which run through it. Here and there you see 
 feeding fine red-bro^m cattle, very clean-limbed and with 
 short horns of an extremely elegant form. 
 
 The mountains to the north -cast stand all in a line. A 
 single peak, Cuniglione, rises boldly from the midst of them. 
 The gravelly hills have but few streams ; vcr}- little rain seems to 
 fall here ; we did not find a single gvilly giving evidence of 
 having ever overflowed. 
 
 In the night I met with a singular incident. Quite worn 
 out, we had thrown ourselves on our beds in anything but a 
 very elegant room. In the middle of the night I saw above 
 me a most agreeable phenomenon — a star brighter, I think, 
 than I ever saw one before. Just, however, as I began to 
 ttike courage at a sight which was of good omen, my patron 
 star suddenly disappeared, and left me in darkness again. 
 At daybreak, I at last discovered the cause of the marvel : 
 there was a hole in the roof, and at the moment of my vision 
 one of the brightest stars must have been crossing my meridian. 
 This jjurely natural phenomenon was, however, interpreted by 
 us travellers as highly faAom-ablc. 
 
 Sciacca, Jpril 22, 1787. 
 
 The road hither, which rmis over nothing but gravelly hills, 
 has been mineralogically vminteresting. The traveller here 
 reaches the shore from which, at diflerent points, bold limestone 
 
 Vol. II. 2 ic
 
 498 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 rocks rise suddenly. All the flat land is extremely fertile ; 
 barley and oats in the finest condition; the salsola-kali is 
 here cultivated ; the aloes since yesterday, and the day before, 
 have shot forth their tall spikes. The same numerous vari- 
 eties of the trefoil still attended us. At last we came on a 
 little wood, tliick with brushwood, the tall trees standing 
 very wide apart ; — the cork-tree at last ! 
 
 Girgenti, April 23, 1787. Evening. 
 
 From Sciacca to this place is a hard day's ride. We ex- 
 amined the baths at the last named place. A hot stream 
 bm"st from the rock with a strong smell of sulphm*; the 
 water had a strong saline flavour, but it was not at all thick. 
 May not the sulphureous exhalation be formed at the moment 
 of its breaking from the rock ? A little higher is a spring, 
 quite cool and without smell ; right above is the monastery, 
 where are the vapour baths; a thick mist rises above it 
 into the piu"e air. 
 
 The shingles on the shore are nothing but limestone : the 
 quartz and hornstone have wholly disappeared. I have ex- 
 amined aU the little streams : the Calta Bellota, and the 
 Maccasoli, carry do'mi with them nothing but limestone; the 
 Platani, a yellow marble and flint, the invariable companion 
 of this nobler calcareous formation. A few pieces of lava 
 excited my attention, but I saw nothing in this country that 
 indicated the presence of volcanic action. I supposed, there- 
 fore, they must be fragments of millstones, or of pieces 
 brought from a distance for some such use or other. Near 
 Monte Allegro, the stone is all gypsum and selenite ; whole 
 rocks of these occiu-ring before and between the limestone. 
 The wonderful strata of Calta Bellota ! 
 
 Girgenti, Tuesday, April 24, 1787. 
 Such a glorious spring view as we enjoyed at sunset to-day 
 will most assuredly never meet our eyes again in one life- 
 time. Modern Girgenti stands on the lofty site of the ancient 
 fortifications, an extent sufiicient for the present population. 
 From our window we looked over the broad but gentle declivity, 
 on which stood the ancient town, which is now entirely covered 
 with gardens and vineyards, beneath whose verdm-e it would be 
 lorg before one thought of looking for the quarters of an ancient 
 city. However, towards the southern end of this green and 
 
 / 
 
 i
 
 SICILY GIRGENTI. ' 499 
 
 flourishing spot the Temple of Concord rears itself, whUe on 
 the east are a few remains of the Temple of Juno. Other 
 ruins of some ancient buildings, which lying in a straight line 
 with those already spoken of, are scarcely noticed by the eye 
 from above, while it hurries ' over them southwards to the 
 shore, or ranges over the level country, which reaches at 
 least seven mdes from the sea-mark. To-day we were 
 obliged to deny ourselves the pleasure of a stroll among 
 the trees and the wild rockets and over this region, so 
 gi'een, so flourishing, and so full of promise for the husband- 
 man, because our guide, (a good-natured little parish priest,) 
 begged us before all things to devote this day to the town. 
 
 He first showed us the well-buUt streets ; then he took us 
 to the higher points, from which the view, gaining both in ex- 
 tent and breadth, was still more glorious, and lastly, for an 
 artistic treat, conducted us to the principal church. In it 
 there is an ancient sarcophagus in good preservation. The fact 
 of its being used for the altar has rescued from destruction the 
 sculptures on it — Hippolytus attended by his hunting compa- 
 nions and horses, has just been stopped by Phaedra's nm-se, 
 who wishes to deliver him a letter. As in this piece the 
 principal object was to exhibit beautiful youthful forms, the old 
 woman as a mere subordinate personage, is represented very 
 little and almost dwarfish, in order not to disturb the 
 intended efiect. Of all the alto-relivoes I have ever seen, I do 
 not, I think, remember one more glorious, and at the same 
 time, so well preserved as this. Until I meet with a better 
 it must pass with me as a specimen of the most gi'aceful 
 period of Grecian art. 
 
 We were carried back to still earlier periods of art by the 
 examination of a costly vase of considerable size, and in ex- 
 cellent condition. Moreover, many relics of ancient architec- 
 tm-e appeared worked up here and there in the walls of the 
 modern chm-ch. 
 
 As there is no inn or hotel in this place, a kind and worthy 
 family made room for us, and gave up for om' accommodation 
 an alcove belonging to a large room. A green curtain sejiarated 
 us and our baggage from the members of the family, who, in the 
 more spacious apartment were employed in })re2jaring maca- 
 roni, of the whitest and smallest kind. I sat down by the side of 
 the pretty children, and caused the whole process to be ex- 
 
 2 K 2
 
 500 ' LETTERS EKOM ITALY, 
 
 plaiued to me, and was informed that it is prepared from the 
 finest and hardest wheat, called Grano forte. That sort they also 
 told me fetches the highest price, which, after being formed into 
 long pipes, is twisted into coils, and by the tip of the fair 
 artiste's fingers made to assume a serpentine shape. The 
 preparation is chiefly by the hand ; machines and moulds are 
 very little used. They also prepared for us a dish of the most 
 excellent macaroni, regretting, however, that at that moment 
 they had not even a single dish of the very best kind, which 
 could not be made out of Girgenti, nor indeed, out of their 
 house. What they did dress for me appeared to me to be 
 unequalled in whiteness and tenderness. 
 
 By leading us once more to the heights and to the most glo- 
 rious points of view, our guide contrived to appease the rest- 
 lestness which during the evening kept us constantly out of 
 doors. As we took a survey of the whole neighbourhood, he 
 pointed out all the remarkable objects which on the morrow 
 we had proposed to examine more nearly. 
 
 Girgenti, Wednesday, April 25, 1787. 
 "With Sim rise we took our way towards the plain, while at 
 every step the siurrounding sceneiy assumed a still more 
 picturesque appearance. With the consciousness that it was 
 for our advantage, the little man led us, without stopping, right 
 across the rich vegetation over a thousand little spots, each 
 of which might have furnished the locale for an idyllic scene. 
 To this variety of scene the unevenness of the coimtry greatly 
 contributed, which undulated as it passed over hidden ruins, 
 which probably were very quickly covered with fertile soil, as 
 the ancient buildings consisted of a light muscheltufa. At 
 last we arrived at the eastern end of the city, where are the 
 ruins of the Temple of Juno, of which, every year must have 
 accelerated the decay, as the air and weather are constantly 
 fretting the soft stone of which it is built. To-day we only 
 devoted a cursory examination to it, but Kniep has already 
 chosen the points from which to sketch it to-morrow. The 
 temple stands on a rock which is now much worn by the 
 weather. From this point the city walls stretched in a straight 
 line eastwards, to a bed of limestone, that rises perpendi- 
 cular from the level strand, Avhich the sea has abandoned, 
 after having shaped these rocks and long -^^■ashed the foot of 
 them. Ilcwn partly out of the native rock, and partly built
 
 SICILY GIUGENTI. 501 
 
 of it wore the walls of ancient Agrigentum, from beliind wliich 
 to-\vered a line of temples. No wonder, then, if from the sea 
 the lower, middle, and upper to^vns, presented together a 
 most striking aspect. 
 
 The Temple of Concord has withstood so many centuries; 
 its light style of architecture closely approximates it to our 
 present standard of the beautiful and tasteful ; so that as com- 
 pared with that of Pajstum, it is, as it were, the shape of a 
 god to that of a gigantic figure. I will not give utterance to 
 my regrets that the recent praiseworthy design of restoring this 
 monument should have been so tastelessly carried out, that the 
 gaps and defects are actually filled up with a dazzling white 
 gy]^)sum. In consequence this monument of ancient art 
 stands before the eye, in a certain sense, dilapidated and 
 disfigured. How easy it would have been to give the gy]:)sum 
 the same tint as the weather- eaten stone of the rest of the 
 building ? In truth, when one looks at the muschelkalk of 
 which the walls and columns are composed, and sees how 
 easily it crumbles away, one's only surprise is that they have 
 lasted so long. But the builders reckoning on a posterity of 
 similar religion to themselves, had taken precautions against 
 it. One observes on the pillars the remains of a fine plaster, 
 Avhich would at once please the eye and ensure dm-ability. 
 
 Our next halt was at the ruins of the Temple of Jupiter. 
 Like the bones of a gigantic skeleton, they are scattered over 
 a large space, having several small cottages interspersed 
 among them, and being intersected by hedgerows, while 
 amidst them plants are growing of diiferent sizes. 
 
 From this pile of ruins all the carved stunc has disappeared, 
 except an enormous triglyph, and a part of around pilaster of 
 corresponding proportions. I attempted to span it with out- 
 stretched arms, but could not reach round it. Of the fiuting 
 of the column, however, some idea may be formed from the 
 fact that, standing in it as in a niche, I just filled it up and 
 touched it on both sides with my shoulders. Two-and-twenty 
 men arranged in a circle would give nearly the periphery of 
 such a column. We went away with the disagreeable feeling 
 that there was nothing here to tempt the draughtsman. 
 
 On the other hand, the Temple of Hercules still showed 
 some traces of its former symmetry. Tlie pillars of the peris- 
 tyles, which ran along the temple on its upper and lower 
 side, lie parallel, as if they had all fallen together, and at ouce,.
 
 502 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 from nortli to south — the one row lying up the hill, the other 
 do-WTi it. The hill may have possibly been formed by the 
 ruined cells or shrines. The columns, held together in all 
 probability by the architrave, fell all at once, being suddenly 
 thrown down, perhaps by a violent wind, and lie in regular order, 
 only broken into the pieces of which they were originally 
 composed. Kniep was already, in imagination, preparing his 
 pencil for an accurate sketch of this singular phenomenon. 
 
 The Temple of -i33sculapius, lying beneath the shade of a 
 most beautiful carob-tree, and closely built upon by some mean 
 farm-buildings, presented, to our minds, a most agreeable aspect. 
 
 Next we went down to Theron's tomb, and were delighted 
 with the actual sight of this monument, of which we had seen 
 so many models, especially as it served for the foreground of 
 a most rare prospect ; for from west to east we looked on the 
 line of rocks on which lay the fragments of the walls, while 
 through the gaps of the latter, and over them, the remains of 
 the temples were visible. 
 
 This ^-iew has, imder Hackert's skilful hand, fin-nished a 
 most delightful picture. Kniep too, will not omit to make a 
 
 sketch of it. 
 
 Girgenti, April 26, 1787. 
 
 When I awoke, Kniep was all ready to start on his artistic 
 journey, with a boy to show him the way, and to carry his 
 portfolio. I enjoyed this most glorious morning at the win- 
 dow, mth my secret and silent, but not dumb friend by my 
 side. A devout reverence has hitherto kept me from men- 
 tioning the name of the Mentor Avhom, from time to time, 
 I have looked up and listened to. It is the excellent Von 
 Eeidesel, whose little volume I carry about with me in my 
 bosom, like a breviaiy or talisman. At all times I have had 
 great pleasure in looking up to those whom I know to be 
 possessed of what I am most Avanting in myself. And this 
 is exactly the case here. A steady purpose, a fixed object, di- 
 rect and appropriate means, due jireparation and store of know- 
 ledge, an intimate connexion with a masterly teacher — he 
 studied under Winckelmann — all these advantages I am devoid 
 of, as well as of all that follows from them. And yet I cannot 
 feel angry with myself that I am obliged to gain by indirect 
 arts and means, and to seize at once what my previous exis- 
 tence has refused to grant me gradually in the ordinary way. 
 Oh that this woi'thy person could, at this moment, in the
 
 SICILr GIE.GENTI. 503 
 
 midst of his bustling world, be sensible of the jrratitude %vith 
 which a traveller in his footsteps celebrates his merits, in 
 that beautiful but solitary spot, which had so many charms for 
 him, as to induce the wish that he might end his days there. 
 
 Oblitusque suorum obliviscendus et illis. 
 
 With my guide, the little parson, I now retraced our yes- 
 terday's Avalli, observing the objects from several points, and 
 every now and then taking a peep at my industrious friend. 
 
 Mj guide called my attention to a beautiful institution of 
 the once flourishing city. In the rocks and masses of masonry, 
 which stand for bulwarks of the ancient Agrigentum, are 
 found graves, probably intended for the resting place of the 
 brave and good. Where could they more fitly have been 
 buried, for the sake of their own glory, or for perpetuating 
 a vivid emulation of their great and good deeds ! 
 
 In the space between the walls and the sea there are still 
 standing the remains of an ancient temple, which are pre- 
 served as a Chiistian chapel. Here also are found round 
 pilasters, worked up Avith, and beautiful!}^ united to the 
 square blocks of the wall, so as to produce an agreeable effect 
 to the eye. One fancies that one here discerns the very spot 
 where the Doric style reached its perfection. 
 
 Man}^ an insignificant monument of antiquity was cursorily 
 glanced at ; but more attention was paid to the modern way 
 of keeping the corn under the earth in great vaulted cham- 
 bers. Of the ciAdl and ecclesiastical condition of the city, my 
 guide gave me much information ; but I heard of nothing that 
 showed any signs of improvement. The conversation suited 
 well with the ruins, which the elements are still preying upon. 
 
 The strata of the muschelkalk all incline towards the sea, — 
 banks of rock strangely eaten away from beneath and behind, 
 while the upper and front i^ortious still remain, looking like 
 pendant fringes. 
 
 Great hatred is here felt against the French, because they 
 have made peace with the people of Barbary. They are even 
 charged with betraying the Christians to the infidels. 
 
 From the sea there was an ancient gatewaj', M'hich was 
 cut through the solid rock. The foundation of the walls, 
 which are still standing, rests as it Avcre on steps in the rocks.
 
 504 XETTEES FROM ITALY. 
 
 Our cicerone is Don Michaele Vella, antiquary, residing at 
 the house of Signore Cerio, near S. Maria's. 
 
 In planting the marsh-beans they proceed in the following 
 •way : — Holes are made in the earth at a convenient distance 
 from each other, and a handfid of dung is thrown in. A 
 shower is then waited for, after which they put in the seed. 
 The people here burn the bean-haulms, and wash their linen 
 with the ashes. They never make use of soap. The outer 
 shells of almonds are likewise burnt and used instead of 
 soda. They first of all wash the clothes with pure water, 
 and then with the ley of those ashes. 
 
 The succession of their crops is, beans, wheat, and tu- 
 menia. By beans I mean the marsh-bean. Their wheat is 
 wonderfully fine. Tumenia, of which the name is derived 
 from bimcnia or trimenia, is a glorious gift of Ceres. It is a 
 species of spring wheat, which is matured within three months. 
 It is sown at difierent times, from the first of January to 
 June, so that for a certain period there is always a crop ripe. 
 It requires neither much rain nor great Avarmth. At first it 
 has a very delicate leaf, but in its growth it soon overtakes 
 the wheat, and at last is very strong. "Wheat is sown in 
 October and November, and i-ij^ens in June. The barley 
 soAATi in November is ripe by the first of June. Near the 
 coast it ripens sooner, but on the mountains more slowly. 
 
 The flax is already ripe. The acanthus has unrolled its 
 splendid leaves. The Sahala fruticosa is growing luxvu'iantly. 
 
 On the uncultivated hills gi'ows a rich sanfoin. It is farmed 
 out, and then carried into the town in small bundles. In the 
 same v\-ay the oats Mhich are weeded out of the wheat, are 
 done up for sale. 
 
 For the sake of irrigation, they make very pretty divisions 
 with edgings in the plots where they plant their cabbages. 
 
 The figs have put forth all their leaves, and the firuit is set. 
 They are generally ripe by midsummer, when the tree sets its 
 fruit again. The almond trees are well loaded ; a sheltered 
 carob-tree has produced numberless pods. The grapes for the 
 Table are trained on arbours supported by high props. Melons 
 set in !March and ripen by June. Among the ruins of Jupiter's 
 temple they thrive vigorously without a trace of moisture.
 
 SICILY GIKGENTI. 505 
 
 Our vettiu-ino eats with great zest raw artichokes and the 
 turnip-cabbage. However, it is necessary to add that they 
 are tenderer and more delicate than with us. When you 
 walk through the fields the farmers allow you to take as 
 many of the young beans, or other crops, as you like. 
 
 As my attention waSj caught by some hard black stones, 
 which looked like lava, my antiquary observed that they were 
 from u-Etna ; and that at the harbour, or rather landing-place, 
 many similar ones were to be found. 
 
 Of birds there are not many kinds native hero : quails are 
 the most common. The birds of passage are, nightingales, 
 larks, and swallows. The llinnine — small black birds, M-hich 
 come from the Levant — hatch their young in Sicily, and then 
 go further or retire. The llidenc come in December or Janu- 
 ary, and after alighting and resting awhile on Acragas, take 
 their flight towards the mountains. 
 
 Of the vase in the cathedral one Avord more. The figures 
 in relief on it are, a hero in full armour, seemingly a stranger, 
 before an old man whom a crown and sceptre, point out 
 to be a king. Behind the latter stands a female figiire, 
 with her head slightly inclined, and her hand imdcr her 
 chin — a posture indicating thoughtful attention. Right op- 
 posite to her, and behind the hero, is an old man who also 
 wears a crown, and is speaking to a man armed with a spear, 
 probably one of the body-guard of the former royal personage. 
 This old man would appear to have introduced the hero, and 
 to be saying to the guard, " Just let him speak to the king ; he 
 is a brave man." 
 
 Red seems to be the ground of the vase, the black to be laid 
 on. It is only in the female's robe that red seems to be laid 
 
 on the black. 
 
 Girgciiti, Friday, April 27, 1787. 
 
 If Knicp is to finish all he proposes, he must sketch away 
 incessantly. In the meantime I walk about with my little 
 antiquary. We took a walk towards the sea, from which 
 Agrigentum must, as the ancients asserted, have looked 
 extremely well. Our view was turned to the billowy expanse, 
 and my guide called my attention to a brt>ad streak of clouds 
 towards the south, which, like a ridge of hills, seemed to rest
 
 506 LETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 ®n the line of the horizon. " This," he said, " indicated the 
 coast of Afi'ica." About the same time another phenomenon 
 struck me as singular. It was a rainbow in a light cloud, 
 which, resting with one hmb on Sicily, thi-ew its arch high 
 against the clear sky, and appeared to rest with the other on. 
 the sea. Beautifidly tinted by the setting sun, and shewing 
 but little movement, it was to the eye an object as rare as it 
 •was agreeable. This bow, I was assured, was exactly in the 
 direction of Malta, and in all probability its other limb rested 
 on that island. The phenomenon, I was told, was of common 
 occurrence. It would be singxdar if the attractive force of these 
 two islands should thus manifest itself even in the atmosphere. 
 
 This conversation excited again the question I had so often 
 asked myself: whether I ought to give up all idea of visiting 
 Malta. The difficulties and dangers, however, which had 
 been already well considered, remained the same ; and we, 
 therefore, resolved to engage our vetturino to take us to 
 Messina. 
 
 But, in the meantime, a strange and peculiar whim was to 
 determine our future movements. For instance, in my tra- 
 vels through Sicily, I had, as yet seen biit few districts rich in 
 corn : moreover, the horizon had every^vhere been confined 
 by nearer or remoter lines of hills, so that the island appeared 
 to be utterly devoid of level plains, and I found it impossible 
 to conceive why Ceres had so highly favoured this island. As I 
 sought for information on this point, I was answered that, in 
 order to see this, I ought, instead of going to Syracuse, to 
 travel across the island, in which case I should see corn-fields 
 in abimdance. We followed this temptation, of giving up 
 Syracuse, especially as I was well aware that of this once glori- 
 ous city scarcely anything but its splendid name remained. 
 Ajid, at any rate, it was easy to visit it from Catania. 
 
 CalfaniNetta, Saturday, April 2^, 1787. 
 At last, we are able to understand how Sicily gained 
 the honourable title of the Granary of Italy. Shortly after 
 leaving Girgenti, the fertile district commenced. It does 
 not consist of a single great plain, but of the sides of 
 mountains and hills, gently inclined towards each other, 
 everywhere planted witli wheat, or barley which jiresent 
 to the eye an unbroken mass of A-egetation. Every spot 
 of earth suited to these crops is &o put to vise and so
 
 SICII-T CALTANISETXA. 507 
 
 jealously looked after, that not a tree is anywhere to be 
 seen. Indeed, the little Tillages and farm-houses all lie on 
 the ridges of the hills, where a row of limestone rocks, which 
 often appear on the surface, renders the ground unfit for 
 tillage. Here the females reside throughout the year, busily 
 employed in spinning and weaving; but tue males, while 
 the work in the fields is going on, spend omy Saturday and 
 Sunday at home, staying away at their work diu-ing the other 
 days, and spending their nights under temporary straw-sheds. 
 
 And so our wish was gratified — even to satiety ; we almost 
 ■wished for the winged car of Triptolemus to escape fi.-om the 
 monotony of the scene. 
 
 After a long drive under the hot sim, thi-ough this wilder- 
 ness of fertility, we were glad enough when, at last, we 
 reached the well-situated and well-built Caltanisetta ; where, 
 however, we had again to look in vain for a tolerable inn. 
 The mules are housed iu fine vaulted stables ; the grooms 
 sleep on the heaps of clover which are intended for the 
 animals' food ; but the stranger has to look out for and to 
 prepare his own lodging. If, by chance, he can hire a room, 
 it has first of all to be swept out and cleaned. Stools or 
 chairs, there are none : the ordy seats to be had are low Httle 
 forms of hard wood : tables are not to be thought of. 
 
 If you wish to convert these forms iuto a bedstead, you 
 must send to a joiner, and hire as many planks as you want. 
 The large leathern bag, which Hackert lent me, was of good 
 use now, and was, by way of anticipation, filled mth chaff. 
 
 But, before all things, provisions must be made for yoirr 
 meals. On our road we had bought a fowl ; our vetturino 
 ran off to purchase some rice, salt, and spice. As, however, 
 he had never been here before, he was for a long time in a 
 perplexitj'^ for a place to cook oiu- meal in, as in the posthouse 
 itself there was no possibility of doing it. At last, an old 
 man of the town agreed for a fair recouipence to provide us 
 •with a hearth together with fuel, and cooking and table utensils. 
 ^Miile om- dinner was cooking, he undertook to guide us round 
 the town, and finally to the market-house, where the jDriucipal 
 inhabitants, after the ancient fashion, met to talk together, 
 and also to hear what we or other strangers might say. 
 
 We were obliged to talk to them of Frederick the Second, 
 and their interest in this great king was such that we thought it 
 adA^sable to keep back the fact of his death, lest om- being
 
 508 liETTEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 the bearers of such, untoward news should render us unwel- 
 come to oiu- hosts. 
 
 Caltanisetta, Saturday, April 28, 1787. 
 
 Geology by way of an appendix ! From Girgenti. the mus- 
 chelkalk rocks ; there also appeared a streak of whitish earth, 
 which afterwards we accounted for : the older limestone fornia- 
 tion again occm-s, with gypsum Ipng immediately upon it. 
 Broad flat vallies ; cultivated almost up to the top of the hill- 
 side, and often quite over it : the older limestone mixed with 
 crumbled gy2")sum. After this appears a looser, yellowish, 
 easily crumbling, limestone ; in the arable fields you distinctly 
 recognize its colour, which often passes into darker, indeed 
 occasionally violet shades. About half-way the gypsum again 
 recurs. On it you see, growing in many places, a bea\itifid 
 violet, almost rosy red scdum, and on the limestone rocks a 
 beautiful yellow moss. 
 
 This very crumbling limestone often shows itself; but most 
 prominently in the neighbom-hood of Caltanisetta, where 
 it lies in strata, containing a few fossils; there its appearance 
 is reddish, almost of a vermilion tint, with little of the violet 
 hue, which Ave formerly observed near San Martino. 
 
 Pebbles of quartz I only observed at a spot about half-way 
 on our journey, in a valley which, shut in on three sides, is 
 open towards the east, and consequently also towards the sea. 
 
 On the left, the high mountain in the distance, near Came- 
 rata, was remarkable, as also was another looking like a 
 propped up cone. For the greatest half of the way not a tree 
 was to be seen. The crops looked glorious, though they were 
 not so high as they were in the neighbourhood of Gii'genti 
 and near the coast ; however, as clean as possible. In the fields 
 of corn, which stretched further than the eye coidd reach, not 
 a weed to be seen. At first we saw nothing but green fields, 
 then some ploughed lands, and lastly, in the moister spots, 
 little patches of wheat, close to Girgenti. We saw apples 
 and pears everywhere else ; on the heights, and in the vicinity 
 of a few little villages, some fig-trees. 
 
 These thirty miles, together with all that I could dis- 
 tinguish, either on the right or left of us, Avas limestone of 
 earlier or later formations, with gypsum here and there. It 
 is to the crumbling and elaboration of these three together by 
 the atmosphere that this district is indebted for its fertility^
 
 SICILY CASTEO GIOVANNI. 509 
 
 It must contain but very little sand, for it scarcely gi-ates 
 bet^^een the teetli. A conjecture of mine with regard to 
 the river Achates must wait for the morrow to confinu or not. 
 
 The valleys have a pretty form, and although they are not 
 flat, still one does not observe any trace of rain gullies ; 
 merely a few brooks, scarcely noticeable, ripple along them 
 for all'of them flow direct to the sea. But little of the red clo- 
 ver is to be seen ; the dwarf palm also disappears here, as well 
 as all the other flowers and shrubs of the south-western side 
 of the island. The thistles are permitted to take possession 
 of nothing but the way-sides, every other spot is sacred to 
 Ceres. Moreover, this region has a gi-eat similarity to the 
 hilly and fertile parts of Germany — for instance, the tract 
 between Erfurt and Gotha, esjjecially when you look out for 
 points of resemblance. Very many things must combine 
 together in order to make Sicily one of the most fertile regions 
 of the world. 
 
 On our "whole tour, we have seen but few horses ; plough- 
 ing is carried on with oxen ; and a law exists which forbids 
 the killing of cows and calves. Goats, asses, and mules, we 
 met in abundance. The horses are mostl}' dapjile grey, with 
 black feet and manes ; the stables are very splendid, with 
 ■well-paved and vaulted stalls. For beans and flax the land 
 is di-essed with dimg ; the other crops are then grown after 
 this early one has been gathered in. Green barley in the 
 ear, done up in bundles, and red clover, in like fashion, are 
 ofiered for sale to the traveller as he goes alou";. 
 
 On the hill above Caltanisetta, I found a hard limestone 
 with fossils : the larger shells laj' lowermost, the smaller 
 above them. In the pavement of this little town, we noticed 
 a limestone with pectinites. 
 
 April 2^, 1787. 
 
 Behind Caltanisetta, the hill subsided suddenly into many 
 
 little valleys, all of which pour theu- streams into the river 
 
 Salso. The soil here is reddish and very loamy ; much of it 
 
 un worked ; what was in cultivation bore tolerably good crops, 
 
 though inferior to what we had elsewhere seen 
 
 Castro Giovanni, Sundaj/, Apt'il 29, 1787. 
 To-day we had to observe still greater fertility and want of 
 population. Heavy rains had fallen, which made travelling
 
 510 LETTXKS FKOJr ITALY. 
 
 anything but pleasant, as we had to pass thi-ough many 
 sti-eams, Avhich were swollen and rapid. At the Salso, where 
 one looks round in vain for a bridge, I was struck with a very 
 singular aiTangement for passing the ford. Strong powerful 
 men were waiting at the river-side ; of these two placed 
 themselves on each side of a mide, and conducted him, rider, 
 baggage and all, through the deep part of the river, till 
 they reach a great bank of gravel in the middle ; when the 
 whole of the ti'aveUers have anived at this spot, they are again 
 conducted ia the same manner through the second arm of the 
 stream, while the fellows, by pushing and shoving, keep the 
 animal in the right tract, and support liim against the cm-rent. 
 
 On the water-side I obsei-ved bushes, which, however, do 
 not spread far into the land. The Salso washes down rubbles 
 of granite — a transition of the gneiss, and marble, both 
 breccian and also of a single colour. 
 
 We now saw before us the isolated momitain ridge on 
 which Castro Giovanni is situate, and which imparts to the 
 countiy about it a grave and singular character. As we rode 
 up the long road which ti'averses its side, we found that the 
 rock consisted of muschelkalk ; large calcined sheUs being 
 huddled together in heaps. You do not see Castro Giovanni 
 until you reach the very smnmit of the ridge, for it lies on the 
 northern declivity of the movmtain. The singular Httle towTi, 
 ■with its tower, and the village of Caltaseibetta, at a Little 
 distance on the left, stand, as it were, solemnly gazing at each 
 other. In the plains we saw the bean in fall blossom ; but 
 who is there that could take pleasure in such a sight ? The 
 roads here were horrible, and the more so because they once 
 were paved, and it rained incessantly. The ancient Enna 
 received us most inhospitably, — a room with a paved floor, 
 with shutters and no window, so that we must either sit in 
 darkness or be again exposed to the beating rain, from which 
 we had thought to escape by putting up here. Some reHcs 
 of oiu* travelling provisions were greedily devoured ; and the 
 night passed most miserably. We made a solemn vow never 
 to direct om* com-se again towai'ds never so mythological a 
 
 name. ■ 
 
 Monday, April 30, 1787. 
 
 The road leading fi-om Castro Giovanni was so rough and 
 bad, that we were obhged to lead om- horses down it. The 
 sky before us was covered with thick and low clouds, while
 
 SICILY CASTKO GIO\'AX>'r. 511 
 
 high above them a singular phenomenon was observable. It 
 was striped white and grey, and seemed to be something 
 corporeal ; but how could aught corporeal get into the sky ? 
 Om- guide enlightened us. This subject of om- amazement 
 was a side of Moimt ^tna, wliich appeared through the 
 opening clouds. Snow alternating with the crags formed the 
 stripes — it was not, however, the highest peak that we saw. 
 
 The precipitous rock on which the ancient Enna was 
 situated lay behind us ; and we drove thi'ough long, long, 
 lonely valleys : there they lay, imcultivated and iminhabited, 
 abandoned to the browsing cattle, which we observed were of a 
 beautiful brown colour, not large, short-horned, clean-limbed, 
 lank and lively as deer. These poor cattle had pastm-age enough, 
 but it was greatly encroached upon, and in some parts whoUy 
 taken possession of by the thistles. These plants have here 
 the finest opportimities possible to disperse their seed and to 
 propagate their kind; they take up an incredible space, 
 which wotdd make pastm-e land enough for two large estates. 
 As they are not perennial, they might, if mowed down before 
 flowering, be easily eradicated. 
 
 However, after having thus seriously meditated an agricul- 
 tm-al campaign against the thistles, I must, to my shame, ad- 
 mit they are not altogether useless. At a lonely farm-house 
 where we pulled up to bait, there were also stopping two 
 Sicilian noblemen, who on account of some process were 
 riding straight across the country to Palermo. With amaze- 
 ment we saw both these grave personages standing before a 
 patch of these thistles, and with their pocket-knives cutting off 
 the tops of the taU shoots. Then holding their prickly booty by 
 the tips of their fingers, they pealed ofi" the rind, and devoured 
 the inner part with great satisfaction. In this way they oc- 
 cupied themselves a considerable time, while we were refresh- 
 ing ourselves with wine (this time it was unmixed) and bread. 
 The vetturino prepared for us some of this marrow of thistle 
 stalks, and assured us that it was a wholesome, cooling food ; 
 it suited our taste, however, as little as the raw cabbage at 
 
 Segeste. 
 
 On the Road, April 30, 1787. 
 
 Having reached the valley through which the rivulet of S. 
 Pacio winds its way, Ave found the district consisting of a 
 reddish, black, and crumbly limestone : many brooks, a very 
 white soil, a beautifid vallev, which the rivulet made ex-
 
 512 I/ETTEKS FKOII ITALY. 
 
 tremely agreeable. The well compounded loamy soil is in 
 some places twenty feet deep, and for the most part of similar 
 quality throughout. The crops looked beautiful ; but some 
 of them were not very clean, and all of them very backward 
 as compared with those on the southern side. Here there are 
 the same little dwellings — and not a tree, as was the case 
 immediately after leaving Castro Giovanni. On the banks of 
 the river plenty of pasture land, but sadly confined by vast 
 masses of thistles. In the gravel of the river we again found 
 quartz, both simple and breccian. 
 
 Molimenti, quite a new village, wisely built in the centre 
 of beautiful fields, and on the banks of the rivulet S. Paolo. 
 The wheat in its neighbom-hood was unrivalled : it will be 
 ready to cut as early as by the 20th May. In the whole 
 district 1 could not discover as yet a trace of volcanic in- 
 fluence : even the stream brings down no pebbles of that 
 character. The soil is well mixed, heavj' rather than light, 
 and has on the whole a coffee-bro^^^l and slightly violet hue. 
 All the hills on the left, which inclose the stream, are lime- 
 stone, whose varieties I had no ojjportunity of observing. 
 They, however, as they crumble imder the influence of the 
 weather, are evidently the causes of the great fertility that 
 marks the district tkroughout. 
 
 ^ Tuesday, May 1, 1787. 
 
 Through a vallej' which, although by nature it Avas 
 throughout alike destined to fertility, Avas unequally culti- 
 vated, Ave rode along very moodily because among so many 
 prominent and iiTegular shapes not one appeared to suit our 
 artistic designs. Kniep had sketched a highly interesting 
 outline, but becase the foreground and intermediate space 
 Avas thoroughly revolting, he had Avith a pleasant joke appended 
 to it a foreground of Poussin's, AA-hich cost him nothing. 
 HoAvever, they made together a very pretty picture. IIoaa' 
 many " pictm-esque tours " in all probability contain half truths 
 of the like kind. 
 
 Our courier, with the view of soothing our grumbling 
 humoiu-, promised iis a good inn for the evening. And 
 in fact, he brought us to an hotel Avhich had been built but a 
 fcAV j'cars since on the road side, and being at a considerable 
 distance from Catania, cannot but be right Avelcome to all 
 travellers. For om- part, finding ourselves, after twelve days 
 
 i
 
 SICILY MOMMENTI. 513 
 
 of discomfort, in a tolerable apartment, we were right 
 glad to be so much at our ease again. But we were sur- 
 prised at an inscription pencilled on the wall in an English 
 character. The following was its purport : — Traveller, who- 
 ever you may be, be on j'om- guard against the inn known in 
 Catania by the sign of the Golden Lion ; it is better to fall 
 into the claws of all the Cyclops, Sii-ens, and Scylla together 
 than to go there." Although we at once supposed that the 
 good-meaning counsellor had no doubt by lus mythological 
 figures magnified the danger, we nevertheless determined to 
 keep out of the reach of the " Golden Lion," which was thus 
 proclaimed to us to be so savage a beast. When, therefore, 
 GUI- muleteer demanded of us where we would wish to put 
 up in Catania, we answered anywhere but at the Golden 
 Lion ! Whereupon he ventured to recommend us to stop 
 ■where he put up his beasts, only he said we should have to 
 provide for ourselves just as we had hitherto done. 
 
 Towards Hybla Major pebbles of lava present themselves, 
 which the stream brings down fi-om the north. Over the feiTy 
 you find limestone, which contains all sorts of rubble, hornstone, 
 lava, and calx ; and then hardened volcanic ashes, covered over 
 with calcareous tufa. The hills of mixed gravel continue till 
 you come near to Catania, at and beyond which place you find 
 the lava flux, from iEtna. You leave on the left what looks 
 like a crater. (Just under Molimenti the peasants were 
 pulling up the flax.) Nature loves a motly garb; and here 
 you may see how she contrives gaily to deck out the dark 
 bluish-gray lava of the mountains. A few seasons bring 
 over it a moss of a high yellow colour, upon which a beautifid 
 red sedum grows luxuriantly, and some other lovely violet 
 flowers. Tlie i)lantations of Cactus and the A-iue-rows be- 
 speak a careful cultivation. Now immense streams of lava 
 begin to hem us in. Motta is a beautiful and striking rock. 
 The beans are like very high shrubs. The fields vary veiy 
 much in their geological features ; now very gravelly, now 
 better mixed. 
 
 The vetturino, who probably had not for a long time seen 
 the vegetation of the south-eastern side of the island, biu-st 
 into loud exclamations about the beauty of the crops, and with 
 self complaisant patriotism demanded of us, if we ever saw such 
 
 Yoi,. II. 2 h
 
 514 XETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 in our own country? Here, however, every thing is sacrificed 
 to them ; you see few if any ti-ees. But the sight that most 
 pleased us was a young girl, of a splendid but slight form, 
 who, evidently an old acquaintance, kept up with the mule of 
 cm- vettiu-ino, chatting the while, and spinning away with all 
 the elegance possible. 
 
 Now yellow tints begin to predominate in the flowers. 
 Towards Misterbianco the cactuses are again found in the 
 hedges; but hedges entirely of this strangely grown plant 
 become, as you approach Catania, more and more general, 
 and ai-e even stiU more beautifid. 
 
 Catania, May 2, 1787. 
 In our auberge we found ourselves, we must confess, most 
 xmcomfortable. The meal, such as our muleteer could alone 
 furnish, was none of the best. A fowl stewed in rice would 
 have been tolerable, but for an immoderate spice of saflfron, 
 which made it not more yellow than disagreeable. The most 
 abominable of bad beds had almost driven me a second time to 
 bring out Hackerfs leathern bag, and we therefore next 
 morning spoke on this subject to om- obliging host. He ex- 
 pressed his regret that it was not in his power to provide 
 better for us ; " but," he said, "there is, above there, a house 
 where strangers are well entertained, and have every reason 
 to be satisfied," 
 
 Saying this, he pointed to a large corner house, of which 
 the part that was turned towards us seemed to promise weU. 
 We immediately hun-ied over to it, and fotmd a very testy 
 personage, who declared himself to be a waiter, and who in the 
 absence of the landlord showed us an excellent bedroom with a 
 sitting-room adjoining, and assured us at the same time that we 
 should be well attended to. AVithout delay we demanded, ac- 
 cording toom- practice, what was the charge for dinner, for wine, 
 for luncheon, and other particulars. The answers were all fair ; 
 and we hastily had our trifles brought over to the house, and 
 arranged them in the spacious and gilded buffets. For the 
 first time since we left Palermo, Kniep foimd an opportimity 
 to spread out his portfolio, and to arrange his di-awings, as I 
 did my notes. Then delighted with our fine room, we stept out 
 on the balcony of the sitting-room to enjoy the view. When 
 we got tired of looking at and extolling the prospect, we turned 
 to enter om- apartment, and commence oxu: occupations, when,
 
 SICILY — CATANIA. 515 
 
 lo ! over our head was a large golden lion, regarding us with a 
 most threatening aspect. Quite serious we looked for a moment 
 in one another's face, then smiled, and laughed outright. From 
 this moment, however, Ave began to look aroimd us to see 
 whether we could discover any of these Homeric goblins. 
 
 Nothing of the kind was to be seen. On the contrary, we 
 found in the sitting-room a pretty young woman, who was 
 playing about with a child from two to three years old, who 
 stood suddenly still on being hastily scolded by the vice- 
 landlord: — "You must take yourself off!" he testily ex- 
 claimed ; " you have no business here." " It is very hard," 
 she rejoined, "that you drive me away ; the child is scarcely 
 to be pacified in the house when you are away, and the 
 signori will allow me, at least while you are present, to keep the 
 child quiet." The husband made no reply, but proceeded to 
 drive her away ; the child at the door cried most miserably, 
 and at last we did most heartily wish that the pretty young 
 madam had stayed. 
 
 Warned by the Englishman, it was no art to see through 
 the comedy : we played the NeuUnge, the Unschuldige — he, 
 however, with his very loving paternal feelings, prevailed 
 very well. The child in fact was evidently very fond of him 
 — and probably the seeming mother had pinched him at the 
 door to make him cry so. 
 
 And so, too, with the greatest innocence possible she came 
 and stayed with him as the man Avent out to deliver for us 
 a letter of introduction to the Domestic Chaplain of Prince Bis- 
 cari. She played and toyed with the child till he came back 
 bringing word from the Abbe that he wovdd come himself and 
 talk with us on the matter. 
 
 • Catania, Thursday^ May 3, 1787. 
 
 The Abbe, who yesterday evening came and paid his re- 
 spects to us, appeared this morning in good time, and con- 
 ducted us to the palace, which is of one story, and built on 
 a tolerably high socle. First of all Ave visited the museum, 
 where there is a large collection of marble and bronze figures, 
 vases, and all sorts of such like antiques. Here we had once 
 more an opportunity of enlarging om- knoAAdodgc ; and the trunk 
 of a Jupiter, which I was already acquainted AAdth through 
 a cast in Tischbein's studio, particularly raAished me. It 
 
 2 L 2
 
 516 BETTERS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 possesses merits far higher than I am able to estimate. An 
 inmate of the house gave us all necessary historical information. 
 After this we passed into a spacious and lofty saloon. The 
 many chairs around and against the walls indicated that a 
 numerous company was often assembled here. We seated 
 cm-selves in hope of a favourable reception. Soon afterwards 
 two ladies entei-ed and walked several times up and down the 
 room. From time to time they spoke to each other. When 
 they observed us, the Abbe rose, and I did the same, and we 
 both bowed. I asked. Who are they ? and I learned that the 
 younger lady was daughter of the Prince, but the elder a 
 noble lady of Catania. We resumed our seats, while they 
 continued to walk up and down as people do in a market-place. 
 We were now conducted to the Prince, who (as I had been 
 already given to understand) honom'ed me with a singular mark 
 of his confidence in showing me his collection of coins, since, by 
 such acts of kindness, both his father and himself had lost 
 many a rare specimen ; and so his general good nature, and 
 "wish to oblige, had been natm'ally much contracted. On this 
 occasion I probably appeared a little better informed than 
 formerly, for I had learned something from the examination of 
 Prince Torremuzza's collection. I again contrived to enlarge 
 my knowledge, being greatly helped by Winckelmann's never- 
 iailing clues, which safely led the way through all the different 
 epochs of art. The Prince, who was well informed in all 
 these matters, when he saw that he had before him not a con- 
 noisseur, but an attentive amatem-, willingly informed me of 
 every particular that I found it necessary to ask about. 
 
 After having given to these matters, considerable, but still far 
 less time than they deserved, we were on the point of taking our 
 leave, when the Prince conducted us to the Princess, his mother, 
 in whose apartments the smaller Avorks of art are to be seen. - 
 We found a venerable, naturally noble lady, who received 
 us with the words, " Pray look round my room, gentlemen ; 
 here you still sec all that my dear departed husband collected 
 and arranged for me. This I owe to the affection of my son, 
 who not only allows me still to reside in his best room, but 
 has even forbidden the least thing to be taken away or 
 removed that his late father pm-chased for me, and chose a 
 place for. Thus I enjoy a double pleasure ; not only have 
 I been able thct^e many years to live in my usual ways and 
 habits, but also I have, as formerly, the opportunity to see and
 
 CATAXIA — IHE PRINCE BISCANl's PALACE. 517 
 
 form the acquaintance of those worthy strangers who come 
 hither from widely distant places to examine ovir treasures." 
 
 She thereupon, with her own hands, opened for us the glass- 
 case in which the works in amber were jireserved. The Sici- 
 lian amber is distinguished from the northern, by its passing 
 from the transparent and non-transparent. — from the wax and 
 the honey-coloured, — through all possible shades of a deep 
 yellow, to the most beautiful hyacinthiau red. In the case 
 there were urns, cups, and other things, and for executing 
 which large pieces of a marvellous size must have been neces- 
 sary'; for such objects, and also for ciit-shells, such as are execu- 
 ted at Trapani, and also for exquisitely manufactured articles 
 in ivory, the Princess had an especial taste, and about some 
 of them she had amusino; stories to tell. The Prince called 
 our attention to those of more solid value among them ; and 
 so several hours slipped away — not, however, without either 
 amusement or edification. 
 
 In the course of our conversation, the Princess discovered 
 that we were Germans : she therefore asked us after Ptiedesel, 
 Bartels, and Miinter, all of whom she knew, and whose several 
 characters she seemed Avell able to appreciate, and to discrimi- 
 nate. We parted reluc'tantly from her, and she seemed also un- 
 willing to bid us farewell. An insular life has in it something 
 very peculiar to be thus excited and refreshed by none but 
 passing sympathies. 
 
 From the palace the Abbe led us to the Benedictine Monas- 
 teiy, and took us to the cell of a brother of the order, who.se 
 reserved and melancholy expression (though he was not of 
 more than the middle age) promised but little of cheerful con- 
 versation. He was, however, the skilfid musician who alone 
 coidd manage the enormous organ in the church of this 
 monastery. As he rather guessed than waited to hear our- 
 request, so he complied with it in silence. We proceeded to 
 the very spacious church, where, sitting down at the glo- 
 rious instrument, he made its softest notes whisper through 
 its remotest corners, or filled the whole of it with the crash of 
 its loudest tones. 
 
 If you had not previously seen the organist, you would 
 fancy that none but a giant could exercise such power ; as, 
 however, we Avcre already acquainted with his personal ap- 
 pearance, we only wondered that the necessary exertion'had not 
 long since worn him out
 
 518 LETTERS FEOM ITALY. 
 
 Catmiia, Friday, May 4, 1787. 
 
 Soon after dinner our Abbe arrived with, a carriage, and 
 proposed to show us a distant part of the city. Upon entering 
 it we had a strange dispute about precedence. Having got up 
 first, I had seated myself on the left-hand side. As he ascended, 
 he begged of me to move, and to take the right-hand seat. 
 I begged him not to stand on such ceremony. " Pardon me," 
 he replied, " and let us sit as I propose ; for if I take my 
 place on your right, every one will beUeve that I am taking a 
 ride with you ; but if I sit on your left, it is thereby indicated 
 that you are riding with me, that is, with him who has, in the 
 Prince's name, to show you the city." Against this nothing 
 could, of course, be objected, and it was settled accordingly. 
 
 We drove up the streets where the lava, which, in 1699, 
 destroyed a great part of this city, remains \asible to this 
 day. The solid lava had been worked like any other rock, 
 — streets had even been marked out on its surface, and partly 
 built. I placed imder the seat of the carriage an undoubted 
 specimen of the molten rock, remembering that, just before 
 my departure from Germany, the dispute had arisen about the 
 volcanic origin of basalt. And I did so in many other places, 
 in order to have several varieties. 
 
 However, if natives had not proved themselves the friends of 
 their o^\^l land, had they not even labom-ed, either for the sake 
 ofprofit or of science, to bringtogether whatever is remarkable 
 in this neighbourhood, the traveller would have had to trouble 
 himself long, and to little pm-pose. In Naples I had received 
 much information from the dealer in lava, but still more 
 instruction did I get here fi'om the Chevalier Gioeni. In his 
 rich and excellently arranged museum I learned more or less 
 correctly to recognise the various phenomena of the lava of 
 -^tna ; the basalt at its foot, stones in a changed state — every- 
 thing, in fact, was pointed out tome in the most friendly manner 
 possible. What 1 saw most to be wondered at. was some zeolites 
 from the rugged rocks which rise out of the sea below Jaci. 
 
 As we inquired of the Chevalier which was the best course 
 to take in order to ascend .^tna, he would not hear of so 
 dangerous an attempt as trying to reach the summit, espe- 
 cially in the present season of the year. "Generally," he 
 observed, begging my pardon, however, " the strangers who 
 come here think far too lightly of the matter ; we, however,
 
 SICILY— CATANIA. 519 
 
 who are neighbours of the mountain, are quite contented if, 
 twice in our life, we hit on a very good opportunity to reach 
 the summit. Brydone, who was the first by his description to 
 kindle a desire to see this fiery peak, did not himself ascend 
 it. Count Borch leaves his readers in uncertainty ; but, in 
 fact, even he ascended only to a certain height : and the same 
 may be said of many others. At present the snow comes down 
 £ir too low, and presents insuperable obstacles. If you would 
 take my advice, you will ride very early some morning for 
 Monte Rosso, and be contented with ascending this height. 
 From it you wiU enjoy a splendid view of JEitnOi, and at the 
 same time have an opportunity of observing the old lava, 
 which, bursting out from that point in 1697, imhappily poured 
 down upon the city. The view is glorious and distinct; it 
 is best to listen to a description for all the rest." 
 
 Catania^ Saturday, May 5, 1787. 
 Following this good counsel, we set out early on a mule ; 
 and, continually looking behind us on oiu* way, reached at 
 last the region of the lava, as yet unchanged by time. 
 Jagged lumps and slabs stared us in the face, among which a 
 chance road had been tracked out by the beasts. We halted on 
 the first considerable eminence. Kniep sketched with wonderful 
 precision, what lay before us. The masses of lava in the fore- 
 ground, the double peak of Monte Rosso on the left, right before 
 us the woods of Nicolosi, out of which rose the snow-capped and 
 slightly smoking summit. We drew near to the Red Mountain. 
 I ascended it. It is composed entirely of red volcanic rubbish, 
 ashes, and stones, heaped together. It would have been very 
 easy to go round the mouth of the crater, had not a violent and 
 stormy east wind made my footing unsteady. When I wished 
 to go a little way, I was obliged to take off my cloak, and 
 then my hat was every moment in danger of being blown 
 into the crater, and I after it. On this account I sat down 
 in order to recover myself, and to take a view of the sur- 
 rounding objects ; but even this position did not help me at 
 all. The wind came direct from the east, over the glorious 
 land which, far and near, and reaching to the sea, lay below me. 
 The outstretched strand, from Messina to Syracuse, Avith its 
 bays and headlands, was before my eyes, either quite open, 
 or else (though only in a few small points) covered Avith rocks. 
 When I came down quite numbed, Kniep, under the shelter of
 
 520 lETTEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 the hill, had passed his time well, and with a few light lines 
 on the paper had perpetuated the memory of what the wild 
 storm had allowed me scarcely to see, and still less to fix per- 
 manently in my mind. 
 
 Returned once more to the jaws of the Golden Lion, we foimd 
 the waiter, whom we had with difficulty prevented from 
 accompanying us. He jDraised our prudence in giving up the 
 thought of visiting the summit, but urgently recommended 
 for the next day a walk by the sea to the rocks of Jaci — it 
 was the most delightful pleasure-trip that could be made 
 from Catania : but it would be well to take something to eat 
 and driuk with us, and also utensils for warming our viands. 
 His wife offered herself to jjcrform this duty. INIoreover, he 
 spoke of the jubilee there was when some Englishmen hired a 
 boat with a band of music to accompany them — which made 
 it more delightful than it was possible to form any idea of. 
 
 The rocks of Jaci had a strong attraction for me ; I had a 
 strong desire to knock off from them as fine zeolites as I had 
 seen in Gioeni"s possession. It was true we might reduce 
 the scale of the affair, and decline the attendance of the wife ; 
 but the warning of the Englishman prevailed over every other 
 consideration. We gave up all thoughts of zeolites, and 
 prided om-selves not a little at this act of self-denial. 
 
 Catania, Simday, May 6, 1787. 
 
 Our clerical companion has not failed us to-day. He 
 conducted us to some remains of ancient architecture ; in 
 examining which, however, the visitor needs to bring Avith 
 him no ordinary talent of restoration. We saw the remains 
 of the great cisterns of a naumachy, and other similar 
 ruins, which, however, have been filled up and depressed 
 by the many successive destructions of the city by lava, earth- 
 quakes, and wars. It is only those who are most accurately 
 acquainted with the architecture of the ancients that can now 
 derive either pleasure or instruction from seeing them. 
 
 The kind Abbe engaged to make our excuses for not wait- 
 ing again on the Prince, and we parted with lively expres- 
 sions of mutual gratitude and good will. 
 
 1 
 
 Taormma, Monday, May 7, 1787. 
 God be thanked that all that we have here seen this day 
 has been abeady amply described — but still more, that Kniep
 
 SICIXY — TAOKMINA. 521 
 
 has resolved to spend the whole of to-morrow in the open 
 air, taking sketches. When you have ascended to the top 
 of the wall of rocks, wliich rise precipitously at no great dis- 
 tance from the sea, you find two peaks, connected by a semi- 
 circle. Whatever shape this may have had originally from Na- 
 ture has been helped by the hand of man, which has formed out 
 of it an amphitheatre for spectators. Walls and other buildings 
 have furnished the necessary passages and rooms. Right across, 
 at the foot of the semicircular range of seats, the scene was built, 
 and by this means the two rocks were joined together, and 
 a most enormous work of nature and art combined. 
 
 Now, sitting down at the spot where formerly sat the up- 
 permost spectators, you confess at once that never did any audi- 
 ence, in any theatre, have before it such a spectacle as j'ou there 
 behold. On the right, and on high rocks at the side, castles 
 tower in the air — farther on the city lies below you; and 
 although its buildings are all of modern date, stiU similar ones, 
 no doubt, stood of old on the same site. After this the 
 eye falls on the whole of the long ridge of -^tna, then on the 
 left it catches a view of the sea-shore, as far as Catania, and 
 even Syracuse, and then the wide and extensive view is closed 
 by the immense smoking volcano, but not horribly, for the at- 
 mosphere, with its softening effect, makes it look more distant, 
 and milder than it really is. 
 
 If now you turn from this view towards the passage running 
 at the back of the spectators, you have on the left the whole 
 Avail of the rocks between which and the sea runs the road to 
 Messina. And then again you behold vast groups of rocky 
 ridges in the sea itself, with the coast of Calabria in the far 
 distance, which only a fixed and attentive gaze can distinguish 
 from the clouds which rise rapidly from it. 
 
 We descended towards the theatre, and tarried awhile 
 among its ruins, on which an accomplished architect would 
 do well to employ, at least on paper, his talent of restoration. 
 After this I attemjated to make a way for myself through the gar- 
 dens to the city. But I soon learnt by experience wliat an im- 
 penetrable bulwark is formed by a hedge of agaves planted close 
 together. You can see through their interlacing leaves, and you 
 think, therefore, it will be ea-y to force a way through them; 
 but the prickles on their leaves are very sensible obstacles. 
 If you step on these colossal leaves, in the hope that thev wiU 
 bear you, they break off suddenly ; and so, instead of getting-
 
 522 LETTEKS FROM ITALY. 
 
 out, you fall into the arms of the next plant. When, how- 
 ever, at last we had wound our way out of the labyrinth, we 
 found but little to enjoy in the city ; though from the neigh- 
 boui'ing country we felt it impossible to part before sunset. 
 Infinitely beautifid was it to observe this region, of which 
 every point had its interest, gradually enveloped in darkness. 
 
 Beloiv Taormina : on the Sea-shore, 
 
 Tuesday, May 8, 1787. 
 
 Kniep, whom, by good luck, I brought with me hither, can- 
 not be praised enough for relieving me of a burden which 
 would have been intolerable to me, and which goes directly 
 counter to my nature. He has gone to sketch in detail 
 the objects which yesterday he took a general survey of. He 
 wUl have to point his pencil many a time, and I know not 
 when he M'iU have finished, I shall have it in my jDower to 
 see all these sights again. At first I wished to ascend the 
 height with him ; but then, again, I was tempted to remain 
 here ; I sought a corner like the bird about to build its nest. 
 In a sorry and neglected peasant's garden I have seated myself, 
 on the trunk of an orange-tree, and lost myself in reveries. 
 Orange-branches, on which a traveller can sit, sovmds rather 
 strangely ; but seems quite natural when one loiows that the 
 orauge-tree, left to nature, sends out at a little distance from 
 the root, twigs, which, in time, become decided branches. 
 
 And so, thinking over again the plan of the -t' Nausicaa," I 
 foiTaed the idea of a di'amatic concentration of the " Odyssey." 
 I think the scheme is not impracticable, only it will be indis- 
 pensable to keep clearly in view the difierence of the Drama 
 and the Epopee. 
 
 Kniep has come down, quite happy and delighted, and has 
 brought back with him two large sheets of drawing-paper, 
 covered with the clearest outlines. Both will contribute to pre- 
 serve in my mind a perpetual memory of these glorious days. 
 
 It must not be left unrecorded, that on this shore, and 
 beneath the clearest sky, we looked around us, from a little 
 balcony, and saw roses, and heard the nightingales. These 
 we are told sing here during at least six months of the 
 
 twelve. 
 
 From Memory. 
 
 The activity of the clever artist wlio accompanies me, and 
 my own more desultoiy and feeble etfbrts, having now assured
 
 SICILY SKETCH OF NAUSICAA, A TRAGEDY, 523 
 
 me the possession of well- selected sketches of the country 
 and its most remarkable points (which, either in outline, or 
 if I like, in well-finished paintings, wiU be mine for ever), 
 I have been able to resign myself more entirely to an impulse 
 which has been daily growing in strength. I have felt an irre- 
 sistible impiilse to animate the glorious scenes by which I am 
 surrounded — the sea, the island, the heavens, with appropriate 
 poetical beings, and here, in and out of this locality, to finish 
 a composition in a tone and spirit such as I have not yet pro- 
 duced. The clear sky ; the smell of the sea, the halo which 
 merges, as it were, into one the sky, the headlands, and the 
 sea — all these afforded nourishment to my purpose; and 
 whilst I wandered in those beautiful gardens, between blossom- 
 ing hedges of oleander, and through arbours of fruit-bearing 
 orange, and citron-trees, and between other trees and shrubs, 
 which were unknown to me, I felt the strange influence in the 
 most agreeable way possible. 
 
 Convinced that for me there could be no better commen- 
 tary on the " Odyssey" than even tliis very neighbourhood, I 
 purchased a copy, and read it, after my own fashion, with 
 incredible interest. But I was also excited by it to produce 
 something of my own, which, strange as it seemed at the first 
 look, became dearer and dearer, and at last took entire posses- 
 sion of me. For I entertained the idea of treating the stoiy 
 of Nausicaa as the subject of a tragedy. 
 
 It is impossible for me even to say what I should have been 
 able to make of it, but the plan I'had quite settled in my 
 mind. The leading idea was to paint in Nausicaa, an 
 amiable and excellent maiden who, wooed by many suitors, 
 but conscious of no preference, coldly rejected all advances, 
 who, however, falling in love with a remarkable stranger, 
 suddenly alters her own conduct, and by an overhasty avowal 
 of her affection compromises herself ; and consequently gives 
 rise to a truly tragic situation. This simple fable might, I 
 thought, be rendered highly interesting by an abiandance of 
 subordinate motives, and especially by the naval and insular 
 character of the locality, and of the personages Avherc and 
 among whom the scene was laid, and by the peculiar tone it 
 would thence assume. 
 
 The first act began with the game at ball. The unexpected 
 acquaintance is made ; the scru])le to lead him herself -into the 
 city is already the harbinger of her love.
 
 524 XETTEES FKOM ITALY. 
 
 The second act unfolds the characters of the household of 
 Alcinous, and of the suitors, and ends with the arrival of Utysses. 
 
 The third is devoted entirelj- to exhibiting the greatness and 
 merits of the new comer, and I hoped to be able in the course of 
 the dialogue, (which was to bring out the history of his adven- 
 tures), to jn-oduce a truly artistic and agreeable effect by repre- 
 senting the various ways in which this story was received by his 
 several hearers. During the nan-ative, the passions were to be 
 heightened, and Nausicaa's lively sympathy with the stranger 
 to be thrown out more and more by conflicting feelings. 
 
 In the fourth act, Ulysses, (off the scene,) gives convincing 
 proofs of his valom- ; while the women remain, and give full 
 scope to their likings, their hopes, and all other tender emo- 
 tions. The high favour in which the stranger stands with all, 
 makes it impossible for Nausicaa to restrain her o\\ti feelings, and 
 so she becomes irreparably compromised with her own people. 
 Ulysses, who, partly innocent, partly to blame, is the cause of 
 all this, now announces his intention to depart ; and nothing 
 remains for the unhappy Nausicaa, but in the fifth act to 
 seek for an end of existence. 
 
 In this composition, there was nothing which I was not 
 able by experience to paint after natiu-e. Even while travel- 
 ling — even in peril — to excite flxvourable feelings which, 
 although they did not end tragicall3% might yet prove painful 
 enough, and perhaps dangerous, and would, at all events, leave 
 deep wounds behind — even the supposed accidents of describ- 
 ing, in lively colours, for the entertainment of others, objects 
 observed at a great distance from home, travelling adventures 
 and chances of life — to be looked upon by the young as a 
 demigod, but by the more sedate as a taUvcr of rhodomoutade, 
 and to meet now with luiexpected favour, and noAv with 
 unexpected rebuffs — all this caused me to feel so great an 
 attachment to this plan, that in thinking of it, I dreamed 
 away all the time of my stay at Palermo, and, indeed, of all 
 the rest of my Sicilian tour. It was this that made me care 
 little for all the inconvenience and discomfort I met with ; 
 for, on this classic ground, a poetic vein had taken possession 
 of me, causing all that I saw, experienced, or observed, to be 
 taken and regarded in a joyous mood. 
 
 After my usual habit — whether a good or a bad one — I 
 wrote down little or nothing of the piece ; but worked in my 
 mind the most of it, with all the minutest detail. And there.
 
 SlCIIiY THE KOAD TO MESSINA, 525 
 
 in my mind, pvishcd out of thought by many subsequent dis- 
 tractions, it has remained until this moment, when, however, 
 I can recollect nothing but a very faint idea of it. 
 
 May 8, 1787. O71 the road to Messina. 
 High limestone rocks on the left. They become more 
 deeply coloured as you advance, and form many beautiful 
 caves. Presently there commences a sort of rock which may 
 be called clay slate, or sand-stone (grcywacke). In the 
 brooks you now meet pebbles of granite. The yellow apples 
 of the solanum, the red flowers of the oleander, give beauty to 
 the landscape. The little stream of Nisi brings down with it 
 mica-pebbles, as do also all the streams we afterwards came to. 
 
 Wednesday, May 9, 1787. 
 
 Beaten by a stormy east wind, we rode between the raging 
 sea on the right, and the wall of rocks, from the top of 
 which we were yesterday looking do-wii ; but this day we have 
 been continually at war with the water. We had to cross 
 innumerable brooks, of which the largest bears the honoiir- 
 able title of a river. However, these streams, as well as the 
 gravel which they bring down with them, were easier to buffet 
 with than the sea, which was raging ^■iolcntly, and at many 
 places dashed right over the road against the rocks, which 
 threw back the thick spray on the travellers. It was a 
 glorious sight, and its rarity to us made us quite ready to put 
 up with all its inconvenience. 
 
 At the same time there was no lack of objects for the 
 mineralogical observer. Enormous masses of limestone, un- 
 dermined by the wind and the waves, fall from time to time ; 
 the softer particles are worn away by the continual motion of 
 the waves, while the harder substances imbedded in them arc 
 left behind ; and so the whole strand is strewed with variegated 
 flints verging on the hornstone, of which I selected and 
 carried off many a specimen. 
 
 Messina, Thursday, May 10, 1787. 
 And so at last we arrived in Messina, where, as we knew of 
 no lodging, we made up our minds to pass the first night at 
 the quarters of our vettui-ino, and then look out in the morn- 
 ing for a more comfortable habitation. In consequence of 
 this resolution, our first entrance gave us the terrible idea of
 
 526 XETTEKS FKOM ITALY. 
 
 entering a ruined city. For, during a whole quarter of an hour 
 as we rode along, we passed ruin after ruin, before we reached 
 the auberge, which, being the only new building that has 
 sprung up in this quarter, opens to you from its first story 
 window a view of nothing but a rugged waste of ruins. Be- 
 yond the circle of the stable yard not a living being of any 
 kind was to be seen. During the night the stillness was 
 fi-ightful. The doors would neither bolt nor even close ; there 
 was no more provision here for the entertainment of human 
 guests than at any other of the similar posting stations. 
 However, we slept away very comfortably on a mattrass 
 which our vetturino took away from beneath the very body 
 
 of our host. — 
 
 Friday, May 11, 1787. 
 To-day we parted from our worthy muleteer, and a good 
 largesse rewarded him for his attentive services. We parted 
 very amicably, after he had first procured us a servant, to take 
 us at once to the best inn in the place, and afterwards to 
 show us whatever was at all remarkable in Messina. Our 
 first host, in order that his wish to get rid of us might be 
 gratified as quickly as possible, helped to carry our boxes and 
 other packages to a pleasant lodging nearer to the inhabited 
 portion of the city — that is to say, beyond the city itself. 
 The following description will give some idea of it. The 
 terrible calamity which visited Messina and swept away 
 twelve thousand of its inhabitants, did not leave behind it 
 a single dwelling for the thirty thousand who survived. 
 Most of the hovises were entirely thrown down ; the cracked 
 and shaking walls of the others made them quite unsafe to live 
 in. On the extensive meads, therefore, to the north of Mes- 
 sina, a city of planks was hastily erected, of which any one 
 will quickly form an idea who has ever seen the Romerberg 
 at Frankfort during the fair, or has passed through the mar- 
 ket-place at Leipzig ; for aU the retail houses and the work- 
 shops are open towards the street, and the chief business is 
 carried on in front of them. Therefore, there are but few of 
 the larger houses even that are particularly weU closed against 
 publicity. Thus, then, have they been living for three years, and 
 the habits engendered by such booth- like, hut-like, and, indeed, 
 tent-like dwellings, has had a decided influence on the charac- 
 ter of the occvipants. The horror caused by this imparalleled 
 event, the diead of its recurrence, impels them with light-
 
 SICILY MESSINA. 527 
 
 hearted cheerfulness to enjoy to the utmost the passing moment. 
 A dreadful expectation of a fresh calamity was excited on 21st 
 April — only twenty days ago, that is — by an earthquake, 
 which again sensibly shook the ground. We were shown a 
 small chm-ch where a multitude of people were crowded to- 
 gether at the very moment, and pei-ceived the trembling. 
 Some persons who were present at the time do not appear even 
 yet to have recovered from their fright. 
 
 In seeking out and visiting these spots we were accom- 
 panied by a friendly consul, who spontaneously put himself 
 to much trouble on our account — a kindness to be gratefully 
 acknowledged in this wilderness more than in any other place. 
 At the same time, having learned that we were soon about to 
 leave, he informed us that a French merchantman was on 
 the point of sailing for Naples. The news was doubly wel- 
 come, as the flag of France is a protection against the pirates. 
 
 We made om- kind cicerone aware of our desire to examine 
 the inside of one of the larger (though stiU one storied) huts, 
 and to see their plain and extemporized economy. Just at this 
 moment we were joined by an agreeable person, who presently 
 described himself to be a teacher of French. After finishing 
 our walk, the consul made known to him our wish to look at 
 one of these buildings, and requested him to take us home 
 with him and show us his. 
 
 We entered the hut, of which the sides and roof consisted 
 alike of planks. The impression it left on the eye was exactly 
 that of one of the booths in a fair, where wild beasts or other 
 curiosities are exhibited. The timber work of the walls and 
 the roof was quite open. A green curtaiu divided off the 
 front room, which Avas not covered with deals, but the natural 
 floor was left just as in a tent. There were some chairs and 
 a table; but no other article of domestic furniture. The 
 space was lighted from above by the openings which had been 
 accidentally left in the roofing. We stood talking together 
 for some time, while I contemplated the green curtain and the 
 roof within, which Avas visible over it, when all of a sudden 
 fi-om the other side of the curtain two lovely gii-ls' heads, 
 black-eyed, and black-haired, peeped over fidl of curiosity, 
 but vanished again as soon as they saw they were perceived. 
 However, upon being asked for by the consul, after the lapse of 
 just so much time as was necessary to adorn tiicmselv'es, they 
 came forward, and with their well dressed and neat little bodies
 
 528 XETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 Crept before the green tapestry. From their questions we 
 clearly perceived that they looked upon us as fabulous beings 
 from another world, in which most amiable delusion our 
 answers must have gone for to confirm them. The consul 
 gave a merry description of our singular appearance : the con- 
 versation was so very agreeable, that we found it hard to part 
 with them. It was not until we had got out of the door that 
 it occurred to us that we had never seen the inner room, and 
 had forgotten all about the construction of the house, being 
 entirely taken up with its fair inhabitants. 
 
 Messina, Saturday, May 12, 1787. 
 
 Among other things we were told by the consul, that 
 although it was not indispensably necessary, still it would be 
 as well to pay our respects to the governor, a strange old 
 man, who, by his humours and prejudices, might as readily 
 injure as benefit us : that besides it always told in his (the 
 consul's) favour if he was the means of introducing distin- 
 guished personages to the governor ; and besides, no stranger 
 arriving here can tell whether some time or other he may 
 not somehow or other require the assistance of this personage. 
 So to please my friend, I went with him. 
 
 As we entered the ante-chamber, we heard in the inner room 
 a most horrible hubbub ; a footman, with a very punch-like 
 expression of countenance, Avhispered in the consul's ear : — 
 " An ill day — a dangerous moment !"' However we entered, 
 and found the governor, a very old man. sitting at a table near 
 the window, with his back tiuiied towards us. Large piles 
 of old discoloured letters were lying before him, from which, 
 with the greatest sedateness, he went on cutting out the un- 
 written portion of the paper — thus giving pretty strong proofe 
 of his love of economy. During this peaceful occupation, 
 however, he was fearfidly rating and cursing away at a re- 
 spectable looking personage, who, to judge from his costume, 
 was probably connected with Malta, and who, with gi-eat 
 coolness and precision of manner, was defending himself, 
 for which, however, he was afibrded but little opportunity. 
 Though thus rated and scolded, he yet with great self-posses- 
 sion endeavoured by appealing to his passport and to his 
 well-knoAvn connections in Naples, to remove a suspicion which 
 the governor, as it would appear, had formed against him as
 
 SICILY MESSINA. 529 
 
 coming backwards and forwards without any apparent busi- 
 ness. All this, however, was of no use : the governor went 
 on cutting his old letters, and carefully separating the clean 
 paper, and scolding all the while. 
 
 Besides ourselves there were about twelve other persons in 
 the room, spectators of the bull-baiting, standing hoverin<>- in 
 a verj'^ wide circle, and apparontly envying us our proximity 
 to the door, as a desirable pfxition should the ])assionate old 
 man seize his crutch, and strike away right and left. Durin"- 
 this scene our good consul's face had lengthened considerably; 
 for my part, my courage was kept up by the grimaces of a foot- 
 man, who, though just outside the door, was close to me, and 
 who, as often as I turned round, made the drollest gestures 
 possible to appease my alarm, by indicating that all this 
 did not matter much. 
 
 And indeed the awful affair was quickly brought to an 
 end. The old man suddenly closed it with observing that 
 there Avas nothing to prevent him clapping the IMaltese in pri- 
 son, and letting him cool his heels in a cell — however, he would 
 pass it over this time; he might stay in Messina the few days he 
 had spoken of — ^but after that he must pack off, and never show 
 his face there again. Very coolly, and without the slightest 
 change of countenance, the object of suspicion took his leave, 
 gracefully saluting the assembly, and ourselves in parti- 
 cular, as he passed through the crowd to get to the door. 
 As the governor turned round fiercely, intending to add yet 
 another_ menace, he caught sight of us, and immediately 
 recovering himself, nodded to the consul, upon which he 
 stepped forward to introduce me. 
 
 The governor was a person of very great age ; his head bent 
 forwards on his chest, while from beneath his grey shagg}'- 
 brows, black sunken eyes cast forth stealthy glances. Now, 
 however, he was quite a different personage, from what we had 
 seen a few moments before. He begged me to be seated ; and 
 still uninterruptedly pursuing his occupation, asked me many 
 questions, which I duly answered, and concluded by invitin"- 
 me to dine with him as long as I should remain here. The con^l 
 sul, satisfied as well as myself, nay, even more satisfied, since 
 he knew better than I did the da'nger we had escaped, made 
 haste to descend the stairs ; and, for my part, I had no desire 
 ever again to approach the lion's den. 
 Vol. II. 2 m
 
 530 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 Messina, Sunday, May 13, 1787. 
 
 Waking this morning, we found ourselves in a much plea- 
 santer apartment, and with the sun shining brightly, but still 
 in poor afflicted Messina. Singularly unpleasant is the view of 
 the so-called Palazzata, a crescent-shaped row of real palaces, 
 which for nearly a quarter of a league encloses and marks out 
 the roadstead. All were built of stone, and four stories high ; 
 of several the whole front, up to the cornice of the roof, is 
 still standina:, while others have been thrown down as low as 
 the first, or second, or thii'd story. So that this once splendid 
 line of buildings exhibits at present with its many chasms and 
 perforations, a strangely revolting appearance : for the blue 
 heaven may be seen through almost every window. The in- 
 terior apartments in all are utterly destroj^ed and fallen. 
 
 One cause of this singular phenomenon is the fact that the 
 splendid architectural edifices erected by the rich, tempted 
 their less wealthy neighbours to vie with them, in appearance 
 at least, and to hide behind a new front of cut stone the 
 old houses, which had been built of larger and smaller rubble- 
 stones, kneaded together and consolidated with plenty of 
 mortar. This joining, not much to be trusted at any time, 
 was quickly loosened and dissolved by the terrible earthquake. 
 The whole fell together. Among the many singular instances 
 of wonderful preservation which occurred in this calamity, 
 they tell the following. The owner of one of these houses 
 had, exactly at the awful moment, entered the recess of a 
 window ,while the whole house fell together behind him ; and 
 there, suspended aloft, but sale, he cahnly awaited the moment 
 of his liberation from his airy prison. That this style of build- 
 ing, which was adopted in consequence of having no quarries 
 in the neighboiu-hood, was the principal cause why the ruin of 
 the city was so total as it was, is proved by the fact that the 
 houses which were of a more solid masonry are still standing. 
 The Jesuits' Colleare and Church, which are solidlv built of cut 
 stone, are still standing uninjm-ed, with their original substan- 
 tial fabric unimpaired. But whatever may be the cause, the 
 appearance of Messina is most oppressive, and reminds one of 
 the times when the Sicaniand Siculi abandoned this restless and 
 treacherous district, to occupy the western coast of the island. 
 
 After passing the morning in viewing these ruins, we entered 
 our inn to take a frugal meal. We were still sitting at table,
 
 MESSINA THE PALAZZATA., 531 
 
 feeling ourselves quite comfortable, when the consul's servant 
 rushed breathless into the room, declaring that the governor had 
 been looking for me all over the city — he had invited me to din- 
 ner, and yet I was absent. The consul earnestly intreated me 
 to go immediately, whether I had or not dined — whether I had 
 allowed the hour to pass through forgetfulness or design. I 
 now felt, for the first time, how childish and silly it was to allow 
 my joy at my first escape to banish all further recollection of 
 the Cyclop's invitation. The servant did not allow me to 
 loiter ; his representations were most urgent and most direct 
 to the point ; if I did not go the consul would be in danger of 
 suffering all that this fiery despot might chose to inflict upon 
 him and his countrymen. 
 
 Whilst I was arranging my hair and dress, I took courage, 
 and with a lighter heart followed, invoking Ulysses as my 
 patron saint, and begging him to intercede in my behalf with 
 Pallas Athene. 
 
 Ari'ived at the lion's den, I was conducted by a fiine foot- 
 man into a large dining-room, where about forty people were 
 sitting at an oval table, without, however, a word being 
 spoken. The place on the governor's right was unoccupied, 
 and to it was I accordingly conducted. 
 
 Having saluted the host and his guests with a low bow, I 
 took my seat by his side, excused my delay by the vast size of 
 the city, and by the mistakes which the imusual way of 
 reckoning the time had so often caused me to make. With a 
 fiery look, he replied, that if a person visited foreign countries, 
 he ought to make a point to learn its customs, and to guide 
 his movements accordingly. To this I answered that such 
 was invariably my endeavom-, only I had found that, in a 
 strange locality, and amidst totally new circumstances, one 
 invariably fell at first, even with the very best intentions, into 
 errors which might appear unpardonable, but for the kindness 
 which readily accepted in excuse for them the plea of the 
 fatigue of travelling, the distraction of new objects, the neces- 
 sity of providing for one's bodily comforts, and, indeed, of 
 preparing for one's further travels. 
 
 Hereupon he asked me how long I thought of remaining. 
 I answered that I should like, if it were possible, to stay here 
 for a considerable period, in ordc.- to have the opportunity of 
 attesting, by my close attention to .'ns orders and commands, 
 
 2 m2
 
 4 
 
 532 XETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 my gratitude for the favour he had shewn nie. After a pause 
 he inquired what I had seen in Messina ? I detailed to him 
 my morning's occupation, with some remarks on what I had 
 seen, adding that what most had struck me was the cleanliness 
 and good order in the streets of this devastated city. And, in 
 fact, it was highly admirable to observe how all the streets had 
 been cleared by throwing the rubbish among the fallen fortifi- 
 cations, and by piling xip the stones against the houses, by 
 •which means the middle of the streets had been made per- 
 fectly free and open for trade and traffic. And tliis gave me 
 an opportunity to pay a well- deserved compliment to his 
 excellency, by observing that all the Messinese thankfully 
 acknowledged that they owed this convenience entirely to his 
 care and forethought. " They acknowledge it, do they," he 
 gi-owled : " well, every one at first complained loudly enough 
 of the hardshi]! of being compelled to take his share of the 
 necessary labour." I made some general remarks upon the 
 wise intentions and lofty designs of government being only 
 slowly understood and appreciated and on similar topics. He 
 asked if I had seen the Chm-ch of the Jesuits, and when I said, 
 No, he rejoined that he would cause it to be shown to me in 
 all its splendour. 
 
 During this conversation, which was interrupted with a few 
 pauses, the rest of the company, I observed, maintained a deep 
 silence, scarcely moving except so far as was absolutely neces- 
 sary in order to place the food in their mouths. And so, too, 
 when the table was removed, and coffee Avas served, they stood 
 up round the walls like so many wax dolls. I went up to the 
 chaplain, who was to shew me the church, and began to thank 
 him in advance for the trouble. However, he moved off, after 
 humbly assuring me that the command of his excellency was 
 in his eyes all sufficient. Upon this I turned to a young 
 stranger who stood near, who, however, Frenchman as he 
 was, did not seem to be at all at his ease ; for he, too, seemed 
 to be struck dumb and petrified, like the rest of the company, 
 among whom I recognized many faces who had been any- 
 thing but willing witnesses of yesterday's scene. 
 
 The governor moved to a distance ; and after a little while, 
 the chaplain observed to me that it was time to be going. I 
 followed him ; the rest of the comjjany had silently one by one 
 disappeared. He led mo to the gate of the Jesuit's church, 
 which rises in the air with all the splendom- and really
 
 MESSINA THE GOVERNOR. 533 
 
 imposing effect of the architecture of these fathers. A 
 porter came immediately towards us, and invited us to enter ; 
 but the priest held me back, observing that we must wait for 
 the governor. The latter presently arrived in his carriage, and, 
 stopping in the piazza, not far from the church, nodded to us to 
 approach, whereupon all three advanced towards him. He gave 
 the porter to imderstand that it was his command that he 
 should not only shew me the church and all its parts, but 
 should also narrate to me in full the histories of the several 
 altars and chapels ; and, moreover, that he should also ojDcn 
 to me all the sacrists, and shew me their remarkable contents. 
 I was a person to whom he was to show all honour, and who 
 must have every cause on his return home to speak well and 
 honourably of Messina. "Fail not," he then said, turning to 
 me with as much of a smile as his featui-es were capable of, — 
 " Fail not as long as you are here to be at my dinner-table in 
 good time — you shall always find a hearty welcome." I had 
 scarcely time to make him a most respectful reply before the 
 carriage moved on. 
 
 From this moment the chaplain became more cheerful, and we 
 entered the church. The Castellan (for so we mav well name 
 him) of this fairy palace, so little suited to the worship of God, 
 set to work to fulfil the duty so sharply enjoined on him, when 
 Kniep and the consul rushed into the empty sanctuary, and 
 gave vent to passionate expi-essions of their joy at seeing me 
 again and at liberty, who, they had believed, would by this 
 time have been in safe custody. They had sat in agonies until 
 the roguish footman (whom probably the consul had well-feed) 
 came and related with a hundred grimaces the issue of the 
 affair; upon which a cheerful joy took possession of them, and 
 they at once set out to seek me, as their informant had made 
 known to them the governor's kind intentions with regard to 
 the church, and thereby gave them a hope of finding me. 
 
 We now stood before the high altar, listening to the enu- 
 meration of the ancient rarities with which it was inlaid : 
 pillars of lapis lazuli fluted, as it were, with bronzed and with 
 gilded rods ; pilasters and panellings after the Florentine 
 fashion ; gorgeous Sicilian agates in abundance, with bronze and 
 gilding perpetually recvu"ring and combiningthe whole together. 
 And now commenced a wondrous counterpointed fugue, 
 Kniep and the consul dilating on the perplexities- of the 
 late incident, and the showman emunerating the costly articles
 
 534 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 of the well-preserved splendour, broke in alternately, both 
 fully possessed with their subject. This afforded a twofold 
 gi-atification ; I became sensible how lucky was my escape, 
 and at the same time had the pleasure of seeing the produc- 
 tions of the Sicilian mountains, on which, in their native 
 state, I had already bestowed attention, here worked up and 
 employed for architectural purposes. 
 
 My accurate acquaintance Avith the several elements of 
 which this splendom- was composed, helped me to discover 
 that what was called lapis iazuH in these columns was probably 
 nothing but calcara, though calcara of a more beautiful colom- 
 than I ever remember to have seen, and withal most incom- 
 parably pieced together. But even such as they are, these 
 pillars are still most highly to be prized ; for it is evident that 
 an immense quantity of this material must have been collected 
 before so many pieces of such beautiful and similar tints 
 could be selected ; and in the next place, considerable pains 
 and labour must have been expended in cutting, splitting, 
 and polishing the stone. But what task was ever too great 
 for the industry of these fathers ? 
 
 Dm-ing my inspection of these rarities, the consul 
 never ceased enlightening me on the danger with which I had 
 been menaced. The governor, he said, not at all pleased 
 that, on my veiy first introduction to him, I should have 
 been a spectator of his violence towards the quasi Maltese, 
 had resolved within himself to pay me especial attention, 
 and with this view he had settled in his o-v\ti mind a regular 
 plan, which, however, had received a considerable check from 
 my absence at the very moment in which it was first to be 
 carried into effect. After waiting a long while, the despot at 
 last sat down to dinner, without, however, been able to con- 
 ceal his vexation and annoj-ance, so that the company were 
 in di'ead lest they should witness a scene either on my arrival 
 or on oui" rising from table. 
 
 Every now and then the sacristan managed to put in a word, 
 opened the secret chambers, which are built in beautiful pro- 
 portion, and elegantly not to say splendidly ornamented. In 
 them were to be seen all the moveable furniture and costly 
 utensils of the church still remaining, and these corresponded 
 in shape and decoration with all the rest. Of the precious 
 metals I observed nothing, and just as little of genuine works 
 of art, whether ancient or modern.
 
 MESSINA CHUECH OF THE JESUITS. 535 
 
 Our mixed Italian -German fugue (for the good father and 
 the sacristan chaunted in the former tongue, while Kuiep and 
 the consul responded in the latter) came to an end just as we 
 were joined by an officer whom I remembered to have seen 
 at the dinner-table. He belonged to the governor's suite. 
 His appearance certainly calculated to excite anxiety, and 
 not the less so as he offered to conduct me to the harbour, 
 where he would take me to certain parts which generally were 
 inaccessible to strangers. !My friends looked at one another ; 
 however, I did not suffer myself to be deterred by their suspi- 
 cions from going alone with him. After some talk about indif- 
 ferent matters, I began to address him more familiarly, and 
 confessed that during the dinner I had observed many of the 
 silent party making friendly signs to me, and giving me to 
 imderstaud that I was not among mere strangers and men of 
 the world, but among friends, and, indeed, brothers : and 
 that I had, therefore, nothing to fear. I felt it a duty to 
 thank him, and to request him to be the bearer of similar ex- 
 pressions of gratitude to the rest of the company. To all this 
 he replied, that they had sought to calm any apprehensions I 
 might have felt ; because, well acquainted as they were with 
 the character of their host, they were convinced that there 
 was really no cause for alarm ; for explosions like that with 
 the Maltese were but very rare, and when they did happen, 
 the worthy old man always blamed himself afterwards, and 
 would for a long time keep a watch over his temper, and 
 go on for a while in the calm and assured performance of his 
 duty, until at last some unexpected rencontre would sm-prise 
 and carry him away by a fresh outbreak of passion. 
 
 My valiant friend further added, that nothing was more 
 desired by him and his companions than to bind themselves 
 to me by a still closer tie, and therefore he begged that I ^\ ould 
 have the great kindness of letting them know where it might 
 be done this evening, most conveniently to myself. I cour- 
 teously declined the proffered honour, and begged him to 
 humour a whim of mine, which made me wish to be looked 
 upon during my travels merely as a man ; if as such I could 
 excite the confidence and sympathy of others, it woidd be most 
 agreeable to me, and what I most wished, — but that many rea- 
 sons forbade me to enter into other relations or connexions. 
 
 Convince him 1 could not. — for I did not venture to tell 
 him what was really my motive. However, it struck me as
 
 536 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 remarkable, that under so despotic a government, these kind- 
 hearted persons should have formed so excellent and so inno- 
 cent an union for mutual jirotection, and for the benefit of 
 strangers. I did not conceal from him the fact, that I was 
 well aware of the ties subsisting between them and other Ger- 
 man travellers, and expatiated at length on the praiseworthy- 
 objects they had in view ; and so only caused him to feel still 
 more surprise at my obstinacy. He tried every possible in- 
 ducement to draw me out of my incognito — however, he did 
 not succeed, partly because, having just escaped one danger, I 
 was not inclined for any object whatever, to run into another ; 
 and partly because I was well aware that the views of these 
 worthy islanders were so very different from my own, that any- 
 closer intimacy with them could lead neither to pleasure 
 iior comfort. 
 
 On the other hand, I willingly spent a few hours with our 
 well-wishing and active consul, who now enlightened us as to 
 the scene with the Maltese. The latter was not really a mere 
 adventurer, — still he was a restless person, who was never 
 happy in one place. The governor, who was of a great family, 
 and highly honored for his sincerity and habits of business, 
 and was also greatly esteemed for his former important ser- 
 vices, was, nevertheless, notorious for his illimitable self-wiU, 
 his unbridled passion, and unbending obstinacy. Suspicious, 
 both as an old man and a tyi-ant, — more anxious lest he should 
 have, than convinced that he really had, enemies at court, he 
 looked upon as spies, and hated all persons who, like this 
 Maltese, were continually coming and going, v»'ithout any os- 
 tensible business. This time the red cloak had crossed him, 
 when, after a considerable period of quiet, it was necessary 
 for him to give vent to his passion, in order to relieve his mind. 
 
 Written partly at Messina, and partly 
 
 at Sea, Monday, May 4, 1787. 
 Both Kniep and myself awoke with the same feelings ; both 
 felt annoyed that we had allowed om-selves, under the first 
 imjjressiou of disgust which the desolate appearance of Mes- 
 sina had excited, to form the hasty determination of leaving 
 it with the French merchantman. The happy issue of 
 my adventure with the governor, the acquaintance which I 
 had formed with certain worthy individuals, and which it only- 
 remained for me to render more intimate, and a visit which I
 
 MESSINA CHARACTER OP THE GOVERNOR. 537 
 
 Lad paid to my banker, Avliose country-house was situated in 
 a most delightful spot : all this afforded a prospect of oiu- 
 being able to spend most agreeably a still longer time in 
 Messina. Kniep, quite taken up ^yith tAvo pretty little 
 children, wished for nothing more than that the adverse 
 wind, which in any other case would be disagreeable enough, 
 might still last for some time. In the meanwhile, however, 
 our position was disagreeable enough, — all must be packed up, 
 and we ourselves be ready to start at a moment's warning. 
 
 And so, at last, about mid-day the summons came ; and we 
 hastened on board, and found among the crowd collected on 
 the shore our worthy consul, from whom we took our leave 
 with many thanks. The sallow footman, also, pressed forward 
 to receive his douceur — he was accordingly didy rewarded, 
 and charged to mention to his master the fact of our depar- 
 ture, and to excuse oxu" absence from dinner. " He who sails 
 away is at once excused," exclaimed he ; and then turning 
 round with a very singular spring, quickly disappeared. 
 
 In the ship itself things looked very different from what 
 they had done in the Neapolitan corvette. However, as we 
 gradually stood off from the shore, we were quite taken up with 
 the glorious view presented by the circiUar line of the Palaz- 
 zata, the citadel, and by the mountains which rose behind the 
 city. Calabria was on the other side. And then the wide 
 prospect northwards and southwards over the strait, — a 
 broad expanse indeed, but still shut in on both sides by a 
 beautiful shore. While we were admiring these objects, one 
 after another, our attention was diverted to a certain commo- 
 tion in the water, at a tolerable distance on the left hand, and 
 still nearer on the right, to a rock distinctly separate from the 
 shore. They were Scylla and Charybdis. These remarkable 
 objects, which in nature stand so wide apart, but which the poet 
 has brought so close together, have furnished occasion to many 
 to make gl-avc complaints of the fabling of poetry. Such grum- 
 blers, however, do not duly consider lliat the imaginative faculty 
 invariably depicts the objects it wovJd represent as grand and 
 impressive, with a few striking touches, rather than in fulness 
 of detail, and that thereby it lends to the image more of cha- 
 racter, solemnity, and dignity. A thousand tinies have I heard 
 the complaint that the objects for a knowknlge of which we 
 are originally indebted to description, invariably disappoint us 
 when we see them with our own eyes. The cause is-, in every
 
 538 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 case, tlie same. Imagination and reality stand in the same 
 relation to each other as poetry and prose do : the former in- 
 variably conceives of its objects as powerful and elevated, the 
 latter loves to dilate and to expand them. A comparison of 
 the landscape painters of the 1 6th century with those of our 
 own day, will strikingly illustrate my meaning. A drawing 
 of lodocus Momper, by the side of one of Kniep's outlines, 
 would at once make the contrast intelligible. 
 
 With such and similar discourses we contrived to amuse 
 ourselves, since the coasts were not attractive enough, even 
 for Kniep, notwithstanding his having prepared everything 
 for sketching. 
 
 As to myself, however, I was again attacked with sea- 
 sickness ; but this time the unpleasant feeling was not relieved 
 by separation and privacy, as it was ou our passage over. 
 However, the cabin Avas large enough to hold several persons, 
 and there was no lack of good mattresses. I again resumed 
 the horizontal position, in which I w^as diligently tended by 
 Kniep, who administered to me plenty of red wine and 
 good bread. In this position our Sicilian expedition pre- 
 sented itself to my mind in no very agreeable light. On the 
 whole, we had really seen nothing but traces of the utterly vain 
 struggle which the human race makes to maintain itself against 
 the violence of Nature, against the malicious spite of Time, 
 and against the rancour of its own unhappy divisions. The 
 Carthaginians, the Greeks, the Romans, and the many other 
 races which followed in succession, built and destroyed. 
 Selinus lies methodically overthrown by art and skill; two 
 thousand years have not sufficed to throw down the temples 
 of Gergenti ; a few hou.rs, nay a few minutes were sufficient to 
 overwhelm Catania and Messma. These sea-sick fancies, how- 
 ever, I did not allow to take possession of a mind tossed up 
 and down on the waves of life. 
 
 At Sea, Tuesdmj, May 16, 1787. 
 My hope of haA'ing a quicker passage back to Naples, or at 
 least of recovering sooner from my sea-sicloiess, has been dis- 
 appointed. Several times I attempted, at Kniep"s recommen- 
 dation, to go up on deck; however aU enjoyment of the 
 varying "beauty of the scene was denied me. Only one or 
 tw^o incidents had power to make me forget awhile my gid- 
 diness. The whole sky was overcast with a thin vapoury
 
 THE VOYAGE FKOM MESSINA TO NAPLES. 539 
 
 clovid, througli which the sun (whose disk, however, was not 
 discernible) illuminated the sea, which was of the most beautiful 
 blue colour that ever was seen. A troop of dolphins accom- 
 parued the ship ; swimming or leaping they managed to keep 
 up with it. I could not help fancying that in the deep water, 
 and at the distance, our floating edifice must have seemed to 
 them a black point, and that they had hurried towards it as to a 
 welcome piece of booty and consumption. However that 
 may be, the sailors did not treat them as kind guides, but 
 rather as enemies ; one was hit with a harpoon, but not hauled 
 on deck. 
 
 The wind continued imfavom-able, and by continually tack- 
 ing and manoeuvring, we only just managed not to lose 
 way. Our impatience at this only increased when some 
 experienced persons among the passengers declared that nei- 
 ther the captain nor the steersman understood their business. 
 The one might do very well as captain, and the other as a 
 mariner — they were, however, not fit to be trusted with the 
 lives of so many passengers and such a valuable freight. 
 
 I begged these otherwise most doughty personages to keep 
 their fears to themselves. The number of the passengers Avas 
 very great, and among them were several women and children 
 of all ages ; for every one had crowded on board the French 
 merchantman, without a thought of any thing but of the 
 protection which the white flag assured them from the pirates. 
 I therefore represented to these pai'ties that the expression of 
 their distrust and anxiety would plunge in the gieatest alarm 
 those poor folk who had hitherto placed all their hopes of 
 safety in the piece of uncoloured and unemblazoned linen. 
 
 And in reality, between sky and sea this white streamer, 
 as a decided talisman, is singular enough. As parting friends 
 greet each other with their white waving handkerchiefs, and 
 so excite in their bosoms a mutual feeling — which nothing else 
 could call forth — of love and affection divided for a while, so 
 here in this simple flag the custom is consecrated. It is even 
 as if one had fixed a handkerchief on the mast to proclaim 
 to all the world, "■ Here comes a friend over the sea." 
 
 Revived from time to time with a little wine and bread, to 
 the annoyance of the captain, who said that I ought to eat 
 what was bargained for. I was able at last to sit on the deck, 
 and to take part occasionally in the conversation. Kniep 
 managed to cheer me, for he could not, this time, t)y boast-
 
 540 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 ing of the excellent fare, excite my energy ; on the contrary, 
 he was obliged to extol my good luck in having no appetite* 
 
 Wechiesday, April 15, 1787. 
 And thus mid-day passed without our being able, as we 
 wished, to get into the Bay of Naples. On the contrary, we 
 were continually di-iven more and more to the west, and our 
 vessel, nearing the island of Capri, kept getting further from 
 Cape Minerva. Every one was annoyed and impatient ; we 
 two, however, who could contemplate the world with a 
 painter's eye, had enough to content us, when the setting sun 
 presented for our enjoyment the most beautiful prospect that we 
 had yet witnessed during our whole tour. Cape Minen-a, with 
 the mountains which abut on it, lay before our eyes in the bril- 
 liant colouring of sunset, while the rocks which stretched 
 southwards from the headland, had already assumed a bluish 
 tint. The whole coast, stretching from the Cape to Sorrento, 
 was gloriously lit up. Vesuvius was visible ; an immense cloud 
 of smoke stood above it like a tower, and sent out a long streak 
 southwards — the result, probably, of a violent eruption. 
 On the left lay Capri, rising perpendicularly in the air ; 
 and by the help of the transparent blue halo, we were 
 able distinctly to trace the forms of its rocky walls. Be- 
 neath a perfectly clear and cloudless sky glittered the calm, 
 scarcely rippling sea, which at last, Avhen the wind died 
 away, lay before us exactly like a clear pool. We were enrap- 
 tured with the sight. Knicp regretted that all the colours of 
 art were inadequate to convey an idea of this harmony, 
 and that not even the finest of English pencils would enable 
 the most practised hand to give the delicacy of the outline. 
 I, for my part, convinced that to possess even a far poorer 
 memorial of the scene than this clever artist could produce, 
 would greatly contribute to my future enjoyment, exhorted 
 him to strain both his hand and eye for the last time. He 
 allowed himself to be persuaded, and produced a most accurate 
 di-awing (w^hich he afterwards coloured) ; and so bequeathed to 
 me a proof, that to truly artistic powers of delineation, the 
 impossible becomes the possible. With equally attentive eyes 
 we watched the transition from evening to night. Capri now 
 lay quite black before us, and. to our astonishment, the smoke of 
 Vesuvius turned into flame, as. indeed, did the whole streak, 
 which, the longer we observed it, became brighter and
 
 'the voyage from MESSINA TO NAPLES. 541 
 
 brighter ; at last we saw a considerable region of the atmo- 
 sphere, forming, as it were, the back ground of oui- natural 
 picture, lit up — and, indeed, lightening. 
 
 AVe were so entirely occupied with these welcome scenes, 
 that we did not notice the great danger we were in. How- 
 ever, the commotion among the passengers did not allow us 
 to continue long in ignorance of it. Those who were better 
 acquainted with maritime affairs than ourselves were bitterly 
 reproaching the captain and his steersman. By their bungling, 
 they said, they had not only missed the mouth of the strait, 
 but they were very nigh losing the lives of all the passengers 
 intrusted to them, cargo and all. We inquired into the 
 grounds of these apprehensions, especially as we could not 
 conceive how, during a perfect calm, there could be any cause 
 for alarm. But it was this very calm that rendered these 
 people so inconsolable. '' We are," they said, " in the current 
 wliich runs round the island, and which, by a slow but irre- 
 sistible ground-swell, will draw us against the rugged rocks, 
 where there is neither the slightest footing, nor the least 
 cove to save ourselves by. 
 
 Made more attentive by these declarations, we contemplated 
 our fate with horror. For, although the deepening night did 
 not allow us to distinguish the approach of danger, still we 
 observed that the ship, as it rolled and pitched, was gradually 
 nearing the rocks, which grew darker and darker upon the 
 eye, while a light evening glow was still playing on the 
 water. Not the slightest movement was to be discerned in 
 the air. Handkerchiefs and light ribbons were constantly 
 being held up, but not the slightest indication of the much de- 
 sired breath of Avind was discernible. The tvunult became 
 every moment louder and wilder. The women with their 
 childi-en were on the deck praying, not indeed on their 
 knees, for there was scarcely room for them to move, but 
 lying close pressed one upon another. Every now and then, 
 too, they would rate and scold the captain more harshly and 
 more bitterly than the men, who were calmer, thinking over 
 every chance of helping and saving the vessel. They reproached 
 him with everything which, during the passage up to this point, 
 had been borne with silence — the bad accommodation, the higli 
 passage money, the scanty bill of fare, his own manners — 
 which, if not absolutely surly, were certainly forbidding 
 enough. He would not give an account of his proceedings to
 
 542 LETTERS PROM ITALY. 
 
 any one ; indeed, ever since the evening before he had 
 maintained a most obstinate silence as to his plans, and what 
 he was doing with his vessel. He and the steersman were 
 called mere money-making adventurers, who having no know- 
 ledge at all of navigation, had managed to buy a packet vv^th 
 a mere view to profit, and now, by their incapacity and bung- 
 ling, were on the point of losing all that had been intrusted 
 to their care. The captain, however, maintained his usual 
 silence under all these reproaches, and appeared to be giving 
 all his thoughts to the chances of saving his ship. As for 
 myself, since I had always felt a greater hoiTor of anarchy 
 than of death itself, I found it quite impossible to hold my 
 tongue any longer. I went up to the noisy railers, and, ad- 
 dressed them with almost as much composui-e of mind as the 
 rogues of Malsesine. I represented to them that, by their 
 shrieking and bawling, they must confound both the ears and 
 the brains of those on whom all at this moment depended for 
 our safety, so that they could neither think nor communicate 
 ■with one another. All that you have to do, I said, is to calm 
 yourselves, and then to offer up a fervent prayer to the 
 Mother of God, askins; her to intercede with her blessed Son 
 to do for you what He did for His Apostles when on the lake 
 Tiberias. The waves broke over the boat while the Lord 
 slept, but Who when, helpless and inconsolable, they a%voke 
 Him, commanded the Avinds to be still ; and Who, if it is only 
 His heavenly will, can even now command the winds to rise. 
 These few words had the best effect possible. One of the men 
 with whom I had previously had some conversation on moral 
 and religious subjects, exclaimed, "yiA, il Balarme ! Benedetto 
 il Balarme!'" and they actually began, as they were already 
 prostrate on their knees, to go over their rosaries with more 
 than usual fervour. They were able to do this with the greater 
 calmness, as the sailors were now trying an expedient the object 
 of which was, at any rate, apparent to every eye. The boat 
 (which would not. however, hold more than six or eight men) 
 was let down and fastened by a long rope to the ship, which, 
 by dint of hard rowing, they hoped to be able to tow after 
 them. And, indeed, it was thought that they did move it 
 within the current, and hopes began to be entertained of 
 soon seeing the vessel towed entirely out of it. But whether 
 their efforts increased the counteraction of the current, or 
 whatever it was, the boat with its crew at the end of the 
 
 I
 
 THE VOYAGE TROM MESSINA TO NAPXES. 543 
 
 hawser was suddenly drawn in a kind of a bow towards the 
 vessel, forming Avith the long rope a kind of bow — or just 
 like the lash of a whip when the driver makes a blow Avith 
 it. This plan, therefore, was soon given up. Prayer now 
 began to alternate with weeping — for our state began to ap- 
 pear alarming indeed, when from the deck we coidd clearly 
 distinguish the voices of the goatherds, (whose fires on the 
 rocks we had long seen), crying to one another, " There is a 
 vessel stranding below." They also said something else, but 
 the sounds were unintelligible to me ; those, however, who 
 understood their patois, interpreted them as exclamations of 
 joy, to think of the rich booty they would reap in the morn- 
 ing. Thus the doubt which we had entertained whether the 
 ship was actually nearing the rocks, and in any immediate dan- 
 ger, was unfortunately too soon dispelled, and Ave saAV the 
 sailors preparing boat-poles and fenders, in order, should it 
 come to the worst, to be ready to hold the vessel off the 
 rocks — so long at least as their poles did not bi-cak, in Avhicli 
 case all Avould be inevitably lost. The ship now rolled 
 more violently than CA'cr, and the breakers seemed to increase 
 upon us. And my sickness returning upon me in the midst 
 of it all, made me resolve to return to the cabin. Half 
 stupified, I threw myself down on my mattress, still Avilli a 
 somewhat pleasant feeling, A\'hich seemed to me to come OA'er 
 from the Sea of Tiberias, for the pictvu'e in Merian's Pictorial 
 Bible kept floating before my mind's eye. And so it is : 
 oui- moral impressions invarial)ly prove strongest in those 
 moments when we are most driven back vipon ourselves. 
 How long I lay in this sort of half stupor I knoAV not, for 
 I was awakened by a great noise OA'erhead ; I could distinctly 
 make out that it was caused by great ropes being dragged 
 along the deck, and this gave me a hope that they Avere going 
 to make use of the sails. A little Avhile after this Kniep 
 hurried doAA'n into the cabin to tell me that Ave were out of 
 danger, for a gentle breeze had sj)rung up ; that all hands 
 had just been at work in hoisting the sails, and that he him- 
 self had not hesitated to lend a hand. We Avere visibly 
 getting clear off the rocks ; and although not entirely out of 
 the current, there Avas now a good ho|)e of our being able to 
 make Avay against it. All was now still again overhead, and 
 soon several more of the passengers came below to announce 
 the happy turn of affairs, and to lie doAA'u.
 
 544 LETTERS FROM ITALY. 
 
 When on tlic fourth, day of our voyage, I awoke early in 
 the morning, I found myself quite fresh and well, just as I 
 had been at the same period of the passage from Naples ; so 
 that on a longer voyage I may hope to get off free, after 
 paying to the sea a tlu-ee days' tribute of sickness. 
 
 From the deck I saw with no little delight the island of 
 Capri, at a tolerable distance on our lee, and perceived that 
 the vessel was holding such a com-se as afforded a hope of our 
 being able ere long to enter the gulf, which, indeed, we very 
 soon afterwards accomplished. And now, after passing a hard 
 night, we had the satisfaction of seeing the same objects as 
 had charmed us so greatly the evening before, in a reversed 
 light. We soon left this dangerous insular rock far behind us. 
 While yesterday we had admired the right hand coast from a 
 distance, now we had straight before us the castle and the city, 
 with Posilippo on the left, together with the tongues of land 
 which run out into the sea towards Procida and Ischia. Every 
 one was on deck ; foremost among them Avas a Greek 
 priest, enthusiastic in the praises of his own dear East ; but 
 who, when the Neapolitans on board, who were rap- 
 turously greeting their glorious country, asked him what he 
 tliought of Najilcs, as compared with Constantinople ? very 
 pathetically replied, " Anche questa e una cittd .'" (This, 
 too, is a city.) 
 
 We reached the hai-bovu" just at the right time, ■when it 
 was thronged with people. Scarcely M'ere om* trimks and the 
 rest of our baggage mishipped and put on shore ere they 
 were seized by two lusty jjorters, who, scarcely giving us 
 time to say that we were going to put up at ISIoriconi's, ran 
 off with the load as if with a prize, so that we had difficulty 
 in keeping them in view as they darted through the crowded 
 streets and bustling piazzas. Kniep kept his portfolio mider 
 his arm, and we consoled ourselves with thinking that the 
 drawings at least were f?afe, should these porters, less honest 
 than the poor Neapolitan devils, strip us of all that even 
 the very bi'eakers had spared. 
 
 END OF VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTKD BY HARRISON &. SON, ST. MARTIN'S LANE.
 
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